Understanding Unknowns
by Frost Deejn
Summary: Set after the book Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine: The Dominion. While civil war threatens to engulf the Gamma Quadrant, a sentient disease infiltrates the Federation. Does Kira hold the key to victory on both fronts?
1. Visions

Disclaimer: _Star Trek_ _Deep Space Nine_ is owned by Paramount. The _Star Trek _universe was created by Gene Roddenberry. I am not profiting from this work, and I claim no creative rights to anything involving _Star Trek._

Spoiler alert: Contains spoilers for the books _Unity_ and _Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine: the Dominion_.

Understanding Unknowns

Chapter 1

On the ship _Shkalek_, near the Fourteenth Terminus of Dominion space, a group of Jem'hadar entered the bridge and approached a petite female Vorta. "It is time," said First Jolin'yobek.

Kalaran looked vaguely unhappy as she opened the box of Ketracel-white and presented it to the Jem'hadar. Instead of taking the proffered vials, the First looked at her expectantly.

"First Jolin'yobek," she said solemnly, "can you vouch for the dedication of your men to the peace of the Dominion and the freedom of the Jem'hadar and the Vorta?"

"We pledge our loyalty and our lives to the freedom and peace of the Dominion."

Kalaran nodded. The First took the vials and distributed them to the Jem'hadar.

The Vorta sighed and turned to her companion. "I can't wait until that becomes unnecessary."

"Soon," Odo assured her. "And the more Vorta and Jem'hadar join our cause, the sooner that day will come."

"They'll still die for you," she said, indicating the Jem'hadar. "They'd give their lives for you even if it meant failing our objective, not because they want to, but because they're programmed to." She said it not as a statement, but as a complaint.

"They'll do what I order them to do because they're programmed to, but they believe in our cause. Your life is more valuable to that cause than mine."

"Without you, we never would have made it this far," Kalaran reminded him.

"But without you, we won't be able to complete our goal. If I die, you have to carry on our work."

Second Rinak'vaka entered the bridge. "Odo," he said, squelching his impulse to refer to him as Founder, "there is a message for you, from Doctor Bashir."

Odo frowned. "Patch it through." He donned his headset. Doctor Bashir's image appeared. "Doctor. This is unexpected."

Due to the distance the message had to travel, it took several seconds for Bashir to respond. "Odo, I'm afraid I have some bad news. It's about Kira."

Odo suddenly felt cold. "Is she alright?"

"Is this a secure channel?"

"I'm afraid not. Doctor, has something happened?"

"Kira's been injured. We…we don't know if she's going to make it."

A look of anguish momentarily crossed Odo's features. Then he composed himself and addressed the doctor again. "I'm sure you're doing all you can for her. I wish I could go to her, but unfortunately my responsibilities keep me here."

"I'm sure she'd understand."

Though he knew it was true, that sentence stung Odo. "When she wakes up…Please contact me if there's any change in her condition."

"I will. Bashir out." The transmission ended.

* * *

Elias Vaughn walked down the Promenade. Benjamin Sisko was right beside him. 

"Thanks for coming, Benny," said Vaughn. "I could really use some help running the station."

"It's an honor," the former commanding officer of Deep Space Nine assured him. "Does the doctor have any idea when Kira will recover?"

"No. He says right when he thinks she's about to wake up and walk out of the Infirmary, she slips back to the brink of death again." Vaughn spoke quietly, concern for his commanding officer and friend evident in his voice. "Security Chief Ro is already out of bed, but Bashir is going to keep her on medical leave for a few weeks. Star Fleet already has a temporary replacement on the way, a Betazoid."

"A Betazoid chief of security?" Sisko managed a smile. "Almost seems like a conflict of interest."

Vaughn flashed a smile in agreement, but quickly became serious again. "Apparently he knows you. Burnau Bez?"

"He was an ensign when I served on the _Okinawa. _A bright young man, but not particularly ambitious. I'm surprised that he went into security."

"People change," Vaughn reminded him. "He'll get here tomorrow, as well as his wife, a Tzenkethi woman."

"He's married to a _Tzenkethi?"_ Sisko asked in shock. "Now _that's_ surprising; he fought in the Federation/Tzenkethi border war."

"Apparently, that's when they met."

They came to the Infirmary and fell silent as they entered. Dr. Bashir stood over the unconscious form of Kira. He looked haggard and determined.

"How is she?" Sisko asked quietly.

Bashir took a long moment before answering. "She's a fighter. Maybe if she relaxed a little, it would give her body time to heal. I've tried a neural dampener, but it doesn't seem to be working."

"A neural dampener?" Sisko asked in confusion. "I'm not a doctor, but I don't see how that would be helpful for treating her injuries."

Bashir suddenly realized he'd left out an important detail. "She has some highly unusual brain activity."

"What kind of brain activity?" Sisko asked with concern.

Bashir took a deep breath. "Brain activity very similar to yours when you found B'hala, but to a lesser degree."

Sisko stared hard at Kira. "She's having a _pagh'tem'far_. That's what the Bajorans call visions from the Prophets," he explained to Commander Vaughn.

"So it's like an Orb experience without an Orb?"

"It's been known to happen before," Bashir said, "though rarely."

"Could you operate on her to stop it?" Sisko asked, though he hoped they wouldn't be forced to that.

Bashir shook his head. "I wouldn't dare with as much trauma as she's already in." He looked down at the patient. "I'm afraid she has to make it back on her own."

* * *

The prisoner stood bravely against the wall. Her face betrayed no fear as a dozen men trained their weapons on her. In the distance, someone called out the order to fire. Kira felt the bullets tear into her body. She fell back against the wall and slid to the ground. With her last breath, she whispered words in a voice that wasn't hers. "For the honor of the Mathgrin." Then she felt her life slip away, her _pagh_ seeping out of her body, going somewhere else… 

"That's far enough. You don't get to know that yet." A man stood above her. A man she knew: Vedek Bareil.

Kira stood up, separating herself from the body, and looked down at it. The woman was about her height and build, blond, violet-eyed, and very pale. Kira then looked around at the executioners. She recognized their guns from holosuite simulations of pre-warp Earth.

"They're human," she noted. She looked back at the dead woman. She superficially appeared human, but there was something about her…something in the tint of her skin, the contours of her face… "But she's not."

"No, she's not," Bareil confirmed.

Kira looked down at her own chest, where a large, oddly-shaped sharp object protruded. "It feels strange," she said. "I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt."

"Well it's not in your body anymore. Neither are you, for that matter."

She smiled. "I suppose Bashir has me on one of his bio-beds by now." She turned her eyes to her late beloved. "You're supposed to be dead," she said softly.

"Let's just say...I'm on loan from the Prophets."

Kira glanced down and back quickly, looking ashamed. "Bareil, there's something I need to tell you…"

He shook his head, smiling gently. "Don't worry about it, Nerys. It doesn't matter. You love him. And he needs you." He indicated the woman. "Her name is Yuv Hyanub, and right now, you need to learn why she's here, and more importantly where she's from."

* * *

Odo said he needed to regenerate when he excused himself from the control room, but he knew he hadn't fooled anyone: the Vorta and Jem'hadar on the ship kept track of his regeneration schedule better than he did. 

His quarters on the ship had been modified to give him a view of the stars outside. Other than the window, the room was completely bare. Odo stared out the window and did something he'd only done twice before in his life: he prayed.

"I'm not sure if you can hear me, or if it's proper for me to even presume to address you," he began awkwardly, "but if anyone deserves your help, it's Kira Nerys. She has honored you her whole life; her faith in you is unwavering. I've asked you in the past to protect her, and to guide her home, now I ask you to heal her…"

Suddenly the room around him was replaced with a blinding white mist. It was eerily silent, like a huge, empty sepulcher. Humanoid shapes approached him. The fog parted to reveal their faces: Kira, Garak, Dr. Mora, Kalaran, Jadzia Dax, Quark. They all looked at him with surreal intensity.

Odo's eyes widened. "Prophets."

"You importune us to intervene in this one's corporeal existence," said the Prophet wearing Kira's form.

"If it's possible," Odo replied carefully.

"He does not understand," said the Dr. Mora Prophet.

"What don't I understand?"

The Prophet in the image of Jadzia Dax appeared behind him. "You are more like us than other corporeal beings."

Odo's head tilted quizzically. "Some people worship my kind as gods, but I don't have nearly as much power as you have."

"The fate of a quadrant depends on you," said the Kalaran Prophet.

"You exist as a linear being," the semblance of Quark said. "You effect linear existence, as we do not."

"All corporeal beings, as you call them, have that power," Odo pointed out. "Why have you brought me here?"

Kira's image spoke again. "This one's corporeal existence must not end as now delineated."

The Garak Prophet stepped in front of her. "The corporeal existence of the Kira effects Bajor."

Odo was filled with a sudden sense of foreboding. "Are you trying to tell me that if Kira dies now, something bad will happen to Bajor?"

"You do not understand," the Mora Prophet noted with almost clinical detachment.

The Kira Prophet stepped up to Odo. "This one effects the linear existence such that her end now ends the nonlinear existence…" she appeared to be having great difficulty putting her meaning into words, and suddenly seemed to decide to just give up. "Linguistic communication is cumbersome," she said almost apologetically.

Odo bristled at that last sentence; it sounded too much like what a Founder once said. "Just tell me if you can do anything for Kira."

The Dr. Mora Prophet looked at him pointedly. "We have."

Odo found himself back in his quarters, looking out his window at the endless stars. He had no idea what the Prophets were trying to tell him, but he had a fairly clear impression that they thought Kira would die, and that was something Odo wasn't willing to accept, or live with. He went back to the control room.

"Kalaran, set a course for the Wormhole."

"Of course," she replied as she locked the coordinates into the navigational controls. She decided it wouldn't be worth mentioning that Odo was about to risk the Gamma Quadrant for one woman.


	2. Ancient Warning

Thank you, JacobedRose and Inyri, for reviewing. I love getting feedback on my stories.

Disclaimer: _Star Trek Deep Space Nine_ does not belong to me, but if its creators didn't want people to write their own stories based on it, they wouldn't have made it so good.

Note: though the Tzenkethi were referred to on the show, I don't think they were ever shown or described, so my description of Nshevalth is based only on my own imagination.

Pronunciation guide: "ei" as in _vein_; "ai"as in _aisle_; in the Yniln language, "y" is always a consonant.

Chapter 2

Commander Vaughn and Benjamin Sisko stood in front of an airlock, waiting.

"Do you want to give him the official welcome, or should I?" Vaughn asked.

"I'm just here in an advisory capacity," Sisko said. "You're the acting commanding officer of this station."

Vaughn's wince was almost a smile. "Lucky me."

The doors opened, and the replacement security officer and his wife entered. Burnau Bez was short for a Betazoid. He had thick black hair, large dark brown eyes, and olive skin. He could easily have been mistaken for human. His wife was a different matter. She stood head and shoulders taller than her husband; her skin was as jet-black as his hair, her eyes were opalescent pools of indigo, set wide in a face which was shaped basically like a human's, but wider with softer angles, and completely lacking eyebrows and eyebrow ridges. She wore a dark, long-sleeved iridescent leotard that left her shoulders bare. Her shimmering pale orange hair hung in two very long, complex braids. Copper earrings dangled from her earlobes like miniaturized wind chimes. Long zygodactylic toes gripped the floor. Her legs, arms, and body were long and slender.

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Lieutenant Bez. I'm Commander Elias Vaughn, and I believe you know Benjamin Sisko."

"It's a pleasure," Bez said as he shook the proffered hands. "This is my wife, Nshevalth."

"I'm honored to find myself in such company," the woman greeted them. She reached out a graceful, four-fingered hand for the traditional human handshake. "I've heard much about your heroism during the war, Captain Sisko. I've wanted to visit this station for years. I only wish it were under better circumstances."

"As do I," Sisko said. "But I hope you enjoy your stay here, in spite of that. May I show you to your quarters?"

"That would be very kind of you, Captain Sisko," Bez said.

Nshevalth looked at her husband with an unreadable expression.

Without looking around, Bez amended, "But Nshevalth would like to talk to the proprietor of the station's holosuites. She's a holonovelist and would like to sell some of her work. But she's sure she can find her way on her own. I'd like to get started setting up our quarters."

Sisko and Vaughn exchanged glances. "I think that would be fine," Sisko agreed. "But I should warn you: the proprietor is a Ferengi."

"I know," Nshevalth assured him with a smile that told them she liked a challenge.

Sisko led Lieutenant Bez to the habitat ring. They didn't say anything for a few minutes, but once they were on the turbolift, Bez turned to him with a smile. "She's not what you expected."

"Not at all," Sisko admitted. "Of course, I've never met a Tzenkethi outside of a battle situation, but I don't remember them being so…"

"Charming," Bez finished for him.

Sisko nodded. "Also, if you don't mind my asking…"

"You want to know how we got together." Bez smiled. "Betazoids are rarely offended by personal questions, Mr. Sisko."

"I can understand that. So, how did you meet?"

"During the Federation/Tzenkethi war, I was in a runabout that got in a firefight with her ship. We both sustained heavy damage and were forced to land on a nearby Class-M moon. There were five Federation and six Tzenkethi survivors. At first, we made preparations to attack each other, but it soon became obvious that we had to band together to survive. The dominant lifeform on that moon was an aggressive carnivore that stalked us both, attacking under cover of darkness. They were large, intelligent, and deadly. The Tzenkethi have better night vision than we do, but their projectile weapons were useless against the creatures' armored skin, so Nshevalth convinced her companions to find us and strike an agreement: we traded weapons. The Tzenkethi used our weapons and their superior night vision to protect all of us from the creatures, and we took the Tzenkethi weapons as assurance that they wouldn't turn on us. Federation and Tzenkethi warships picked up our distress signals at the same time, and Nshevalth and I talked our respective parties into parting peacefully after rescuing us. When the war ended she moved to Federation space and contacted me. During the Dominion War she joined the crew of one of the private ships that contributed to the war effort. She mostly fought against the Breen, but also had a few run-ins with the Jem'hadar. We were married on Betazed right after it was freed." Sensing that Sisko's curiosity was satisfied, Bez changed the subject. "I hear you were recently remarried."

"Yes. In fact, my wife and I have a baby girl."

"That's wonderful, but I sense you're worried about them."

They reached Bez's quarters.

"I look forward to working with you again, Lieutenant," Sisko said in parting.

"Likewise," Bez replied.

"One more thing," Sisko asked. "Is it true that Tzenkethi bioluminesce when they're…aroused?"

Bez just smiled and closed the door.

* * *

Quark looked up from the bar when he heard a new customer enter. Then he froze. Normally, he like tall women, but this one was too tall for his comfort. Her black skin seemed to drink in the light from around her, making the room darker by her mere presence. He had difficulty distinguishing individual features on her shadowless face. 

When she reached a barstool, she didn't so much sit down as fold herself onto it with a spidery grace.

Gulping down his nervousness, Quark approached his new guest, reviewing in his mind his favorite Rules of Acquisition to give himself courage.

"Hello, and welcome to Quark's. I'm the owner of this establishment, and I would love to know what I could do for you."

The woman's wide, thick-lipped mouth curved into a smile. "What are my options?"

Quark made an all-inclusive gesture with his hands. "Name it; we've got it."

"_Mdolai_ seed wine," she ordered without hesitation.

Quark froze like a Tzenkethi mud rabbit caught in a hunter's searchlight. "I'm…not sure we have that in stock at the moment," he said in a tight, small voice.

"I'm not surprised. I haven't had _mdolai_ seed wine since I left Tzenketh."

"Tzenketh…Tzenketh…" Quark racked his memory for where he'd heard that word before.

"A selfish, xenophobic little empire outside Federation space. Don't worry that you haven't heard about it. The autocracy strictly forbids most outside commerce."

For a moment, Quark floundered for which direction he could most profitably take that comment, then decided to go the safest rout—flattery. "I can see you're a woman with good lobes for business."

She shook her head slightly, causing her earrings to tinkle musically. "Profit doesn't interest me: I'm an artist."

"Ah, but what is the purpose of art, if not profit?"

She gave him a withering glare, causing Quark to cower slightly. Then she moved on. "My name is Nshevalth Bez. My husband is temporarily taking over as chief of security here. As I mentioned, I'm an artist. More specifically, a holonovelist. And I would like an iced raktajino, and to discuss a business proposition."

* * *

The man had auburn hair, braided tightly, falling to his lower back. The woman had shoulder-length dark brown hair. She was short and slightly plump. Pretty, but not beautiful. She had a youthful vigor offset by serious eyes. Both were dressed in elaborate silken togas, hers jade green, his turquoise. They had the same porcelain skin as the blond woman who would later be executed. 

They were in what looked like a space station, in a large circular room with a window stretching along half the wall. Elaborately colored, thick, square cushions lay on the floor along the window. Otherwise, the room was undecorated. They were the only people in it.

"I was surprised to see you here," the man finally said. "I've only seen you at the shrine. I thought you were a _theilkrCu._"

She faced him, standing about a meter and a half away, in a rigidly formal mien. "I was thinking about becoming a _theilkrCu_," she explained, "but I wasn't entirely certain that's the path I most desire."

"What path do you desire?" he asked, almost flirtatiously.

She didn't answer directly. "Tell me, Raiic Viyan, why did you join the Bysev?"

He opened his palm toward the window. "I wanted to see the stars. To really _see_ stars. It has been an irrational longing of mine since I was a child. Why did you join?"

"Are you familiar with TheilkrCu Oivut Zhiker's Extrapolation of the_Thilnhwag _Affirmation?"

Raiic Viyan made a show of trying to recall it, even though he had never read the works of Oivut Zhiker. "No, I'm afraid not."

"It says 'The more I explore the world, the better I know myself'. Of course, while he was limited to Yns, we have the universe to explore."

He nodded. "So you joined Bysev _because_ you don't know what path you most desire to take?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"I'm sure you'll find a path, Danor Talu," he said.

She graced him with a suggestive smile. "And even if I don't, I'm sure I'll have many adventures along the way."

Kira, eavesdropping from a far distant time and place, shifted to another scene. The man and woman looked older, though not by very much. They were dressed in what Kira knew from spending time in Vic's to be old Earth clothes. There were five other people with them, two men and three women. One of the men resembled Raiic Viyan and Danor Talu, but the others were clearly of another species, though still humanoid enough to pass as humans.

Danor Talu was being held to a wall with a force field, her eyes full of unfocused malice.

"She's been infected," said a tall woman with tightly curled red hair.

"Are you sure?" Raiic Viyan asked fearfully.

"_Look_ at her! If she escapes, we'll be exposed, and the mission will have to be aborted. We'll have failed."

"We _can't_ kill her!" Raiic Viyan nearly screamed.

One of the others, a brown-skinned woman with feline green eyes, put her hand on his shoulder. "Raiic, she knew this was a possibility. That _thing_ in her hasn't been able to report our existence yet, but we can't take any chances."

"I have an idea," said a man with gray-green eyes and chocolate-colored hair.

The red-haired woman, who seemed to be in charge, gave him her full attention. "We're listening, Chax."

"This thing is vulnerable to extreme cold. If we put her in cryostasis, we could save her. But it will be difficult and risky...and could take years."

"We would have to find a way to keep her neural patterns from degrading," said a tall brunette woman, "but it could work."

"If it can be done, then we'll do it," the red-haired woman declared confidently.

* * *

"Unauthorized Dominion ship coming through the Wormhole," said Prynn Tenmei from her station in Ops. 

"Hail them," Commander Vaughn ordered.

The visage of a female Vorta appeared on the screen. "Greetings, Commander Vaughn. My name is Kalaran, and I'm here on assignment from Odo."

"Can I have verification for that?" Vaughn asked, nearly managing to hide his suspicion.

"Unfortunately, my assignment is of a very sensitive nature. Before I reveal too much, I would ask you to allow me to beam aboard your station, alone, and do a thorough search for any Dominion surveillance devices."

Vaughn considered the proposition, contemplating hidden threats. "Would you agree on having our security officers accompany you?"

"That is agreeable."

"And if you don't mind, I'd like to use our own transporter to beam you aboard."

Kalaran hesitated for a moment. "Very well. I will bring my ship within range of your transporters."

Ten minutes later, Kalaran was beamed into Ops, where she was met by two security officers, as well as Commander Vaughn and Sisko. She carried a Dominion scanner.

"Time is an issue and I would like to get started with my scan as soon as possible," she said.

Vaughn nodded. "Of course. But Mr. Sisko and I would like to accompany you, as well."

Kalaran looked confused by the request, but didn't protest. "If you wish."

As they scanned Ops, the Captain's office, and the Promenade, Vaughn questioned their guest on Dominion scanning and surveillance equipment. Kalaran answered candidly. Sisko mostly observed her in silence.

When they reached the Infirmary, Kalaran froze for a second when she saw Kira in the bio-bed, but then she continued with her scans. As soon as she was certain the Infirmary was clean of Dominion or any other surveillance devices, she turned to Sisko and Vaughn. "I'm satisfied that your station is secure. Now, if you'll excuse me…" Kalaran dissolved in a swirl of golden light, which condensed into the form of Odo. Vaughn stared in sheer confusion, but Sisko nodded, as though this development only confirmed his suspicion.

"Odo!" Dr. Bashir exclaimed. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I didn't intend to," Odo said as he walked to Kira's side. "The situation in the Dominion is volatile right now, which is why no one from the Dominion except the people on the ship that brought me can know I'm here." Although his voice was calm, his eyes, as they looked down on Kira, were full of tenderness and fear.

"What made you decide to come?" Sisko inquired.

Odo continued staring at the unconscious woman so intently that Vaughn doubted Sisko's words had reached him, but then he replied, "I had a talk with her Prophets." He tore his eyes away from Kira and looked at Sisko. "They're not overly concerned with clarity, are they?"

Sisko smiled. "You could put it that way. But you have to remember that they perceive the universe in an entirely different way than we do; we're as confusing to them as they are to us."

Odo gently caressed Kira's face with the tips of his fingers. "I wish she had been able to see them, instead of me."

"Kai Opaka once told me that no one should look their own gods in the eye. I think Nerys will feel honored that they spoke to you."

Odo's hands slipped around Kira's motionless fingers. "I don't understand why they did. It doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe not yet," Sisko said comfortingly. "But they always have a reason. You might not understand it, but they told you whatever they needed you to know."

Odo was distracted by Kira's unusually pale face. "Did I do this to her?" he asked no one in specific. "Is this my fault?"

Vaughn and Sisko exchanged uncomfortable glances. Bashir opened his mouth to offer some blithe reassurance, but couldn't honestly bring himself to say that Odo bore absolutely no blame for what happened to Kira and Ro.

Odo took their silence for what it was: a confirmation of his suspicions. He was grateful that his friends didn't lie to protect his feelings. And he wasn't about to give in to guilt. Maybe if Kira died it would be a different matter, but in the meantime he would do whatever he could for her, even though he had no idea what that might be.


	3. Conflicts

Disclaimer: I did not create and do not own _Star Trek Deep Space Nine_. May contain spoilers. Any resemblance to real people or events is probably coincidental. The author is not responsible for lost or stolen time. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 3

Commander Ifam cringed when the Tal Shiar operative entered his bridge. It was bad enough that the arrogant, aloof Major Hathar had commandeered his ship, but that he wouldn't even deign to allow the commander access to his own ship's navigational logs was just insulting. He watched with narrowed eyes as Hathar leaned over the shoulders of the busy crew, keeping himself updated on the warbird's condition. He didn't once so much as spare Ifam a glance.

The door hissed open again, and Sub-commander Peneth entered the bridge. She was almost panicking, which Ifam never would have expected from his second-in-command, who had endured seemingly-suicidal battles with Jem'Hadar, Cardassian, and Breen forces without so much as flinching.

"Commander Ifam," she whispered. "I just got some terrible news." She glanced nervously at the Tal Shiar operative. "According to the military command, six Tal Shiar agents were found dead, including General Killith. Five of them were executed. One, the presumed executioner...dead from unknown causes. Major Hathar was among them when they died. His presence here was not sanctioned by or even known to the Tal Shiar!"

With a sharp intake of breath, Ifam drew his phaser and turned to face the liar, but Hathar had already drawn his own phaser, and was pointing it squarely at the commander."

"She is correct," Hathar said. "Unfortunately, you won't live long enough to understand what's really happening here."

As Hathar's phaser fired, Peneth leaped toward him, taking the full force of the attack and knocking him to the ground. Wasting none of this dearly-bought time, Ifam shot Hathar the moment the Tal Shiar pushed the corpse off himself. His body convulsed, then fell limp. The crew watched in horror as a pinkish-white liquid flowed out of the fallen Romulan's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, forming a puddle on the floor. Then the puddle began flowing in a disquietingly purposeful movement. Ifam fired at it, but his phaser had no effect. The liquid congealed into a doughy solid, which expanded and rose up into a pillar. Tendrils shot out, hitting every living Romulan in the face. They clawed and screamed as the alien substance absorbed into their skin. Then, one by one, they grew calm.

Commander Ifam disintegrated the two bodies with high-powered shots from his phaser. He faced his crew. "Now that that unfortunate delay has been taken care of, let's complete our mission."

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you've never tried them! They're delicious!" 

Nog walked into his uncle's bar to find Quark in a discussion with a tall black-skinned woman. After a moment, he remembered seeing a hologram of a Tzenkethi in his exobiology class at the academy. He noticed that whatever they were talking about disgusted Quark, and Morn was staring at the woman in mute horror.

"No humanoid would ever order that. Okay, a Klingon maybe, but they might even consider it…undignified," Quark said.

The woman shrugged her bare, bony shoulders. "I'm telling you, you missed out on a very lucrative opportunity."

Nog chose that moment to jump in. "Uncle…how are things going."

"Can you believe this woman?" Quark asked Nog as though he'd been there the whole time. "She thinks tribbles are good to eat."

"On my home planet they're raised in giant silos, and any other meat is only eaten by poor people. They taste like…well, like tribble. They're tender, juicy, nutritious, and go especially well with eishkosa sauce."

"How do you keep them from escaping and wreaking havoc on your planet's ecosystem?" Nog asked curiously.

"They're restrained with forcefields, and if they do escape into the farm buildings, there's a certain sound wave frequency that kills them. All tribble farms are set up with emitters set to that frequency. The silos, of course, are soundproof. Some did escape, years ago, shortly after the first tribbles were bought from a human peddler named Cyrano Jones—the only human the Tzenkethi government doesn't officially despise—but the feral tribbles were quickly hunted to extinction."

"Interesting," Nog said politely.

Quark suddenly realized introductions were in order. "Nog, this is Nshevalth Bez, the wife of Laren's replacement."

"Pleasure to meet you." Nog extended his hand, which Nshevalth shook.

"Thank you. I would love to stay and chat more, but I reallymust be going." She stood up, and for the first time Nog realized how truly tall she was. She easily could have been twice his height. He watched her x-shaped feet as she walked to the door.

Quark looked down at the holonovel chip she'd lent him. He wasn't looking forward to playing it—he knew too many "holonovelists" to take most of them seriously, and besides, she didn't act like the kind of person who would write _his_ kind of holosuite programs. But on the other hand, he didn't want to know what she would do to him if he didn't at least give it a chance.

* * *

Raiic Viyan ran to the meeting place. Danor Talu should have been there; where was she? 

"Did you find her?" Drwida Wiladra asked urgently.

"Yuv is dead," Raiic Viyan gasped. "I'm sorry."

Drwida Wiladra closed his eyes, not even trying to conceal his grief. "And you destroyed her body?"

"Yes. There's not enough of her to examine. They'll never learn she wasn't as Earthiln as they are." He looked around. "Danor must still be in there. I have to go back."

"If she was captured," Drwida Wiladra said seriously, "she probably already activated the catalyst and incinerated herself."

Raiic Viyan shook his head violently. "First, we don't know she's been captured. Second, she never follows orders unless she absolutely has to. I'm going to risk it."

Drwida Wiladra nodded, but Raiic Viyan had already rushed back in the direction from which he came.

* * *

When Bashir came back on duty in the morning, Odo was still standing beside Kira, holding her hand and staring at her face, as though he thought if he let down his guard for even an instant, she would slip away. 

"How long until you have to regenerate?" Bashir asked.

"Four hours," Odo replied.

Bashir checked Kira's bio-readings. They hadn't changed much. "I wish I could do more," he said to Odo.

"So do I." He sighed. "If the Prophets do have a reason for me being here, I wish they would let me in on it."

"Maybe the simple fact of you being here for her is enough. Some people believe that having a loved one nearby can be therapeutic, even when the patient's unconscious."

"Or that's just what the loved ones tell themselves to feel less helpless," Odo retorted. But then he asked, with touch of restrained hope, "Do you believe that, Doctor?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "But every _conventional _therapy I've tried hasn't worked, hopefully something else will."

"An _un_conventional therapy…" Odo mumbled to himself.

"Of course," Bashir continued, "in medicine, as in war and…most other things in life, come to think of it, small changes can have large consequences."

Commander Vaughn walked in the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Odo's ship is trying to hail him…or, rather, Kalaran."

"Can you patch it through to here?" Odo asked as he reluctantly pulled away from Kira and morphed into the form of the female Vorta.

"No problem," Vaughn replied.

A moment later, a Jem'hadar face appeared on a screen.

"Second Rinak'vaka," Odo said in a pleasant, lilting voice. "What is the situation?"

"The Founder has been trying to contact Odo, but we told him Odo wanted to wait until he could have Kalaran's counsel before he heard what he has to say."

Odo nodded in a very Vorta-like way. "Tell Odo I will return to the ship shortly. End transmission." He fought a look of desolation and despair away from Kalaran's borrowed face before turning back to the other occupants of the room. "All of my ship's subspace communications are monitored," he explained. "We use them to send misinformation, so we don't want to interfere with the channel and give away that we know we're being monitored." He approached Kira. Still in Kalaran's form, he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. The ethereal blue Vorta eyes lingered on her face as he walked away. "I'll send someone from the Dominion who might be able to help," he said, addressing both Vaughn and Bashir. "Provided you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Vaughn assured him. "And in the meantime, we'll do all we can."

"I trust you will. And I'll be back as soon as I can." He hailed his ship and disappeared in the swirl of a Dominion transporter beam.

* * *

Acting Chief of Security Bez scrolled through a security report, looking positively disgruntled. He glanced up as Deputy Arkra entered the security office. 

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Arkra asked uncertainly.

"Why haven't you made a report to Starfleet about the increase of ships in the Badlands?" Bez demanded to know.

"I didn't think it was necessary. They haven't committed any crimes, and I don't see that they pose much of a threat. They're mostly unemployed freighters, mercenaries that don't have much work after the war, that sort of thing. Security Chief Ro agrees with me."

"And it didn't occur to either of you that there might be a new Marquis threat?"

Arkra hardened. "My job is the security of this station. The Badlands are outside my jurisdiction."

"The security of this station depends on the security of the space around it," Bez informed him. "You should at least have made a report to Starfleet."

"Ro didn't think that was necessary."

"Well Ro had a conflict of interests, didn't she?" Bez regarded Arkra critically, not just taking in his exterior signs, but also considered his emotions and his louder thoughts. "You resent that you weren't put in charge of security when Ro was injured, don't you?" It was clearly an accusation, not an inquiry. "You also question her fitness to do her job, mostly because of her seeming attachment to the station's most conspicuous criminal element. I sense you were very loyal to the security chief who preceded her, and you know that some of your criticism stems from your preclusion that Ro couldn't possibly measure up to him."

"You know why everyone hates telepaths?" Arkra asked before turning and stalking out of the office.

* * *

"I was sorry to hear about what happened to Captain Kira," Admiral Ross commiserated from the screen in front of Commander Vaughn. 

"We're not giving up on her yet."

"I expect no less. That woman is as tough as anyone I've ever met. Have you located the Jem'hadar who attacked her?"

"Not yet," Vaughn admitted. "Our scans of Deep Space Nine indicate he's not here anymore, but we stopped traffic out of the station as soon as the incident occurred, and it didn't resume until we searched the station for him. Internal sensors showed an airlock malfunction minutes after the attack, so we're considering the possibility he could have been suicidal."

"Still, stay vigilant," Ross recommended.

"Always," Vaughn assured him. "Remember who you're talking to."

The admiral looked down at his table top. He opened his mouth, but didn't speak for a full second, and when he did, he prefaced it with a slow, hissing intake of breath. Vaughn braced himself for bad news. "There's another security matter I'd like to discuss with you," Ross began. "There have been reports of mysterious deaths and disappearances coming from the Klingon and Romulan territories. Some of the dead had…rather severe and unexplainable brain damage. The pattern looks like it's consistent with a contagious disease, but many of the deaths are clearly homicides."

"A pathogen that affects behavioral patterns. Nothing unheard of."

"But there's no trace of viral, bacterial, or any other infectious agents in the bodies."

Vaughn leaned forward in his chair. "That is unusual."

"Because we don't know what it is, we don't know what to look for. This isn't considered a classified matter, so feel free to discuss it with that brilliant young doctor you have on your station, or anyone else you think may provide insight."

"Thank you, sir. Is there anything else?"

"Not yet. I'll keep you updated. End transmission."

Vaughn continued staring at the screen even after the Admiral's image disappeared. Why did he have the feeling that those fatalities were more than a simple infection?


	4. Out of Hand

Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Trek Deep Space Nine_ or any of the characters therein.

Spoiler alert: Contains _Worlds of Star Trek DSN: The Dominion_ spoilers.

Chapter 4

It was coming for her.

The substance—the _goo_, for lack of a better word, was flowing or crawling towards her. She backed up. She tried to get away, but it was just coming too quickly. It touched her foot, stinging and paralyzing her skin. It seeped up her pant leg in a way a liquid should not have been able to do. She slapped at it and tried to push it off, but it just flowed around her hand, and then started rushing up her arm, towards her face. She felt it pass into her skin, into her veins, coursing toward her brain. She tried to yell for help, but it was too late…

"We are _not_ losing her!" Bashir declared. He and two nurses were rushing around the infirmary as the bioscanners next to Kira blared a warning of her vital signs' crash.

"She's going."

"Not if I can help it, she's not!" Bashir put a hypospray to her neck, then quickly ran another scan. He barked orders to the nurses, who followed them with astonishing celerity. Another hypospray. "You hear me, Nerys?" he shouted at his patient. "I am _not_ losing you!"

She walked into Ops. Everything was so familiar, yet so distant and distorted. Her crew smiled at her, and she smiled back. No need to make them worry. No reason for them to know that it was only a matter of time before they would all be infected.

"How are you this morning, Captain?" Vaughn asked pleasantly.

"I'm alright," Kira's voice responded. "How are you?"

"Never better," the first officer replied.

"Glad to hear it." She flashed a smile. "Have you talked to Sisko recently?"

"I called him last night. His baby's starting to get her first tooth, and he hasn't been sleeping much."

"I should call him; I haven't spoken to him in a while. Or Kasidy. I wonder how she's doing."

Kira commenced with her day's work. Vaughn too would be infected, but that could wait. It might even take years. Patience. Patience was life.

After work, Kira went to Quark's. She scowled her hello to the little Ferengi troll, then ordered springwine. He would be infected, as distasteful as that prospect was. He would be a useful vector.

Odo walked in the bar. Kira smiled happily at him, a smile she didn't feel. This species not only lacked a centralized nervous system, it had no permanent solid form. It would not be easy to infect. Maybe even impossible.

"How are you tonight, Captain?" he asked.

"I'm wonderful. Of course, that could just be because you're here."

He smiled back at her, and watched fondly as she drank her springwine. "Shall we go say hello to Vic?" he asked when she finished.

"I would like that."

They walked arm-in-arm to the holosuite.

"I hope he forgives our lapse in following his dress code."

"You could change into a tux," Kira pointed out.

"But I won't. I want everyone to stare at me when I'm with you."

Vic was entertaining some of his holographic guests when they walked in, but excused himself to join them. "Where you two lovebirds been keeping yourselves?" he asked. "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"We've been busy," Kira said. "You know how it is, running a space station."

Vic looked her up and down. His normally cheerful face fell as he did so. "Kira, what happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?" She smiled nervously.

"You act different. It's like you're not in love anymore. It's like you're not even you."

Odo stepped away from her, looking worried. Apparently, he trusted the hologram's judgment enough to take his suspicions seriously.

"Of course I'm me," she assured them both. "Who else would I be?"

Odo grabbed her arm and attempted to link with her, only to find her as solid as usual.

"Odo! I'm me. Ask me anything you want, if you need proof."

"I don't care if you've got all the proof in the universe, you're not the Kira Nerys I know," the Vic hologram insisted.

"Computer, delete program!" Kira commanded. The holosuite quickly complied.

Odo tapped his combadge. "Odo to infirmary…"

Kira pulled out her phaser and shot the shapeshifter, increasing the phaser's setting until the creature crumbled to ashes.

"Odo, what is it?" Bashir asked through the commsystem.

"Nothing. False alarm," Kira reported.

Kira thrashed in the bio-bed. Her eyes flew open. "Odo!"

Bashir rushed to her side. "Kira, you're awake."

"Oh, Prophets! It's coming!"

"Kira, calm down. You're in the infirmary. You were attacked..."

She lost consciousness again. Bashir swore harshly as her vital signs shifted swiftly back towards catastrophe.

* * *

Burnau Bez opened his eyes in the darkness of his quarters. What had awakened him? He held his breath, listened to the soft breathing of his wife next to him. He touched her mind, seeing the chaotic thoughts and emotions of dreaming. Then he turned his powerful telepathy loose, searching the quarters for any insect or vole that might have made the physical or mental noise that interrupted his sleep. 

_Victory is life_…

Burnau poked Nshevalth. _Awaken._

_What is it, my husband?_

_The Jem'hadar. It's here._

She sat up._ Where?_

_Outside the quarters, in the hall._

He felt his wife's smile. Tzenkethi had the ability to accept conflicting emotions better than most species. They found absolutely nothing strange about being both happy and angry at once, or even content and troubled. Though most sentient creatures were able to feel seemingly contradictory emotions at the same time, because the Tzenkethi accepted and didn't fight it, theirs were much stronger. As an example, the Tzenkethi word for "spouse" contained both the word _love_ and _enemy_. Nshevalth had conflicting emotions about fighting and war, considering them to be both tragic and exciting. Her feelings about Jem'hadar, however, were relatively unambiguous: hatred, tinged with respect.

She slipped out of bed silently, not bothering with a weapon, and exited the quarters. The hall was darkened for the night, but had plenty of light for the Tzenkethi's sensitive eyes. She knew what a shrouded Jem'hadar looked like.

_Remember, they want him alive,_ Burnau reminded her.

_I'll see what I can do._

There he was, leaning against the wall, counting on both the dark and his near-invisibility to keep from being seen.

_What's he planning?_ Nshevalth asked. She knew the creature could see her, but took comfort in the thought that he didn't know she could see him.

_Nothing. He's insane. All he wants is to kill_…_and to stay alive._

She yawned and stretched. Her loose, diaphanous nightgown flowed around her. She walked toward the shrouded Jem'hadar, swaying from side to side as though she were very tired. Though Tzenkethi weren't physically strong like Klingons and Vulcans, they were naturally violent, and Nshevalth had years of combat training and experience behind her. Plus, she had the element of surprise. When she was within arm's length of her opponent—specifically _her_ arm's length—she attacked. She flipped her long hair into his face, temporarily blinding him. He lost his shroud, and she noted with relief that he wasn't carrying a weapon. But he wasn't just a Jem'hadar, but an Honored Elder, and his unarmed combat skills were superb. He grabbed Nshevalth's hair and pulled her to the ground. She didn't resist, instead diving with Taran'atar's momentum and somersaulting to her knees. She hit her opponent in the face with her wrist, using her long arm to increase the force. Taran'atar quickly recovered and grabbed Nshevalth's neck. She hit his elbow with her own, breaking his grasp. He threw a punch, which she ducked and countered, aiming for his exposed neck. He deflected her blow, then hit her with a punch that knocked her to the other wall. She used the wall to stop, then propelled herself off it, aiming a kick at Taran'atar's head. Her toes stretched out, wrapped around his face, and slammed him into the wall, then pulled him to the floor before he had a chance to recover. He rolled out of her grip. Blood dripped from claw marks on his face. He was dazed, but tried to punch Nshevalth again. She moved to the side, grabbed his oncoming arm, and yanked it in the direction his momentum was already going, pulling him off balance. Then her knee connected with his arm. The Jem'hadar screeched in agony as his bones snapped. People in nearby quarters looked out their doors, reacted to the sight of the Jem'hadar and Tzenkethi battling, and called security. Burnau had been watching the fight from his door, phaser ready just in case the combat got out of Nshevalth's control. It hadn't, and now she had the Jem'hadar pressed against the floor, his injured arm bent at an unnatural angle behind his back, his good arm held across his neck, his legs restrained by Nshevalth's feet at the knees. When the security team finally got there, Nshevalth and Burnau helped drag Taran'atar to a holding cell.

* * *

Odo, Kalaran, and First Jolin'yobek faced the screen where the image of a changeling had just appeared. 

"Odo, I'm so happy you could find time for me. I understand you've been…quite busy."

"What do you want, Laas?" Odo asked impatiently.

The changeling stared at him angrily. "I _told_ you, I will _not_ respond to the name given to me by the solids anymore. I am the Founder!"

"Founder," Odo conceded. "Why did you ask to speak to me?"

"I wanted to warn you that I know the Jem'hadar base in the Pojangka system is a stronghold of your supporters, and I'm ready to have it destroyed if you continue with your imbecilic plan to reengineer the Jem'hadar."

Odo took a deep breath and tried to control his irritation. "I'm not at war with you, Laas. You have to agree that it's not right to engineer the Jem'hadar…_condition_ them to serve without question or any thought of themselves. It isn't just cruel; it's dangerous to keep them in servitude."

"They are what we need them to be. They do the best possible job of keeping the solids in line. Don't you understand, Odo? Your dream of a peaceful Dominion is doomed to failure. You can't remake us in the image of the Federation. _They_ are a cooperative of equals, of solids. _We_ are _gods!_ Our destiny is to _dominate_ the inferior species!"

"NO!" Odo pounded his fist against the wall in fury. "The solids are not inferior to us, and they are not our enemies! The survival of the Dominion depends on recognizing that!"

"What about our own survival, Odo? Our survival depends on conquering and controlling the solids. They would destroy us if they had the chance. They don't trust us; they're not capable of it!"

"You've lived among solids longer than I have. How can you seriously believe that?"

"How can you not? You've seen what they're capable of. They infected us with a virus that would have killed us all…"

"THEY'RE NOT ALL LIKE THAT!" Odo yelled. He turned away from the screen and took a moment to gain control of himself before he faced Laas again. "Besides, our people have engineered dozens of diseases to control and punish rebellious Dominion planets."

"That was different," Laas said simply.

"How was that different?"

"They were solids," he replied, as though that was explanation enough.

"They're solids and so they're inferior? Their lives are shorter than ours, so it's alright to cut them even shorter?"

"That's right," Laas said. "They don't matter. I don't know why you don't understand that."

"How can you honestly believe what you're saying?" Odo demanded. "You've met solids that prove you wrong."

"All the solids I've met have been petty, limited, deceitful, insignificant fools."

If Laas had been in the same room, Odo might have hurt him. "How can you say that about Nerys? She _saved_ you."

Laas scoffed. "She saved me to manipulate you. She knew you wouldn't leave her. She's just like all the other solids. By the way, do you really expect me to believe that you sent your ship through the wormhole, and you weren't on it? If you want to deceive me in the future, you should consider being more discreet. Your feelings for the solids are blinding you to the needs of your own people, and I won't let you endanger the Dominion because of them. Choose whose side you're on." With that, he cut the transmission.

"We can't allow him to destroy the Pojangka system," Kalaran said.

"The Jem'hadar protecting that system are loyal to us," First Jolin'yobek assured them. "They will defend it from any attack by Laas's troops."

Odo looked troubled. "But if he does attack, we'll have a civil war on our hands, a civil war the Dominion won't survive."


	5. Plots and Plans

Disclaimer: Not mine. Enough said.

Spoiler alert for _Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine: the Dominion._

Chapter 5

The Wormhole opened in its graceful, radiant spiral. A single small ship emerged. Minutes later it had docked at Deep Space Nine and released its occupant.

At first, the young alien acted nervous. Or possibly just shy. He looked around as soon as he stepped off his ship, as though he weren't sure he was in the right place. He hugged a bulky wooden box close to his chest.

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine. I'm Commander Vaughn."

"I'm Chiarta. I've been sent by the Founder Odo to heal someone."

Vaughn pondered this alien. He seemed no older than a teenager, though it was hard to tell with a species he'd never encountered before. He had wrinkled green skin, a beak, stringy gray hair, and flaring cheekbones. His clothes consisted of a threadbare dark green vest over a long, equally ragged brown robe. But if Odo sent him, Vaughn was willing to give him a chance. "This way," he said, and led Chiarta toward the infirmary.

"I like your station," he said shakily. "I've never been away from my home planet before. Iriniad, that's my home planet's name. I felt honored that the Founder chose me. It was just kind of surprising. Most other species don't take _vam_ healing very seriously. Especially not the Founders. Actually I'm not sure if the other Founders ever even heard about it. The _Vorta_ certainly didn't take it seriously. I hope it works on Odo's friend. He's done so much for Iriniad, this is the least we can do for him. You know, before Odo came, the favorite method of suicide on Iriniad was to walk up to a Jem'hadar and say the Founders weren't gods. But since Odo took over, we've been able to practice our traditional religions openly, and even have our own government, without any Vorta at all. I'll tell you something for sure: if there's a civil war the Iriniadi will be on Odo's side, no matter what."

Vaughn slowed his step and turned slightly to look at his garrulous companion. "Is there going to be a civil war?"

"I hope not. But if there is, Iriniad will do whatever we can to keep from going back to the old Dominion. We'll fight to the last child. Do you want to know what the Dominion did to the royal family after they took over six generations ago? The royal family wouldn't surrender, so they were frozen in chunks of ice and put on display at the capital city's Central Market, just like fish. That story gets told on dark nights to disobedient children."

They entered the infirmary. Dr. Bashir, who looked like he hadn't slept in days, glanced up from reading something. "Is this the one Odo sent?"

"Yes. This is Chiarta," Vaughn said. He peered at Kira. "How is she?"

"Weak," Bashir answered. "And getting weaker."

Chiarta walked over to her. "I've healed worse, I assure you." He placed his wooden box on a table, lifted off the lid, and gently removed what looked like a wooden candelabrum turned on its side and bent into a crescent. The wooden prongs held oddly-shaped glass tubes.

"What's that?" Bashir asked.

"My _vam._ It's traditionally used on my home planet to heal wounded, and calm the distressed." Chiarta ran a finger down one of the glass rods, producing a sound somewhere between the tinkling of a stream and the vibration of a harp string. He began playing it, unconcerned with melody or pattern.

Bashir wasn't sure if it could really aid in healing Kira, but he found the music soothing. "Have you ever tried recording _vam_ music?" he inquired.

"Yes, but it doesn't have the same effect."

Vaughn listened for a minute before excusing himself to return to his duties. Bashir sat in a chair and relaxed for the first time since Taran'atar attacked Kira and Ro. He glanced at Kira's bioreadings, and was shocked to find they were already improving.

* * *

Kira found herself again on the ship with Danor Talu, Raiic Viyan, and the others. Half of Danor Talu's face was marred with some kind of burn, but she didn't seem to be self-conscious about it. Everyone in the room was looking into a sealed chamber, where a charcoal-colored liquid substance crept along the floor, moving from one wall to another, as though searching for an escape. 

"We're ready, Zoch," Drwida Wiladra announced.

"This is the moment of truth," said Zoch, the red-haired woman. She pressed a button that released a spray of mist into the chamber. As soon as the mist touched the fluid life-form, it recoiled, then flowed more quickly, trying to get away from it. Then it stopped moving altogether. As they watched, it shriveled until it was nothing but a dark residue.

The room erupted into cheers. When the noise died down, Zoch smiled triumphantly. "It's dead," she announced. "As soon as we release the antidote into the planet's atmosphere, we can all go home."

* * *

Ro Laren stormed into the security office. "How _dare_ you!" she screamed at the man behind the desk. "How dare you circumvent my authority and arrest a man on circumstantial evidence?" 

Lieutenant Bez looked up. "Aren't you supposed to be recuperating?" he asked mildly.

_I'm _supposed_ to be in the holosuite, but you've arrested my date!_ She thought fiercely, but aloud she said, "How am I supposed to be recuperating when you harass one of my deputies about something _I've_ determined to not be a security threat, and _then_ arrest someone I've had under a long-term investigation, potentially scaring his illicit business contacts into hiding and ensuring that the smuggling rings he _may_ be involved in are never exposed?"

"Is _that_ why you never arrested him for the cargo bays full of contraband I found?" Bez said with a smile.

"How dare you question me on my investigative techniques?" Ro asked menacingly.

Bez chuckled. "You're threatened by me," he realized. "You're threatened by everyone. Tell me, has it ever occurred to you that the universe _isn't_ stacked against you?"

Ro glared, but couldn't think of a retort before they were interrupted by Nshevalth, who walked in as though she owned the office. "Excuse me for a moment," she commanded the other woman before addressing her husband. "I want to report an incident of boldfaced plagiarism."

"Go ahead," Bez said.

"I just got word from my publisher that he saw a…an _adult_ holovid containing a scene from a holonovel of mine that I loaned to Quark recently. I can't prove that Quark passed my work on to the other author, but it's the only thing I can think of. My publisher said he'll look into it before he puts either work on the market, but it won't be easy to prove I wrote that passage first."

"What do you expect me to do about it?" he asked with legitimate curiosity.

"From what I've heard of this Ferengi, it shouldn't be too hard to find some excuse to arrest him."

Ro's head snapped in her direction. "Excuse me? Perhaps you should save your conspiring for another time—like, for example, when you're _not_ right in front of the legitimate chief of security for this station! Unless, of course, you _want_ your husband kicked out of Starfleet."

"You're a fine one to talk about Starfleet regulations, Ro," Bez said pointedly. "And I'm not _just_ talking about how you disgraced yourself in your previous career—_twice_, I might add—but letting Quark get away with all of the things you know he's doing…"

"There's not enough _proof!_" she whined.

"But there's plenty of _evidence,"_ Bez pointed out.

Ro sighed. "Okay, you're right that I don't always stick to the letter of Starfleet regulations. The fact is, Quark is a valued member of this community who's worth more behind his bar than in a holding cell. And the commander would agree with me, much as she would hate to admit it, if she were in any condition to protest."

Nshevalth shifted her gaze between Ro and Bez. "So," she said with a half-smile, "Quark is _already_ in a holding cell?"

"That's right," Bez answered. He added telepathically, _But Ro is right about one thing: I don't have enough evidence to hold him for long, and proof is hard to come by. From what I've learned, Quark has years of experience cleaning up after his crimes._

"You can at least add abetting plagiarism to his charges," Nshevalth said thoughtfully. _And when you are forced to release him, I'll teach him to mess with a writer's work!_

"I'm sure if he did sell your holonovel to one of his suppliers, he made sure the subspace logs didn't record it. He's good at things like that." _Don't do anything regrettable, Imzadi._

"He's violated something sacred. Something must be done!" _Don't worry, Imzadi. I'm thinking along different lines._

"Would you two mind finishing this later?" Ro asked, primarily speaking to Nshevalth. Then she focused her ire on Bez again. "You don't have proof, and it's dangerous to keep him one holding cell over from that insane Jem'hadar. I assure you I'm going to log a protest!"

"Log all the protests you want, but the fact is that until you're finished with your medical leave, _I'm_ in charge of station security."

"I assure you, that won't be long at all," Ro said, then left as angrily as she came.

_What are you planning, my dear?_ Bez inquired.

_I'm going to hit him where Ferengi hurt most: his profits._ She smiled. _I'll discuss this with you later, once my plan is better formed._

_Meanwhile,_ Bez thought to her as he followed Ro's departure with his eyes, _I have a feeling I'll have my own problems to deal with before long._

"Then I'll talk to you later, _Imzadi_," Nshevalth said aloud. She reached across the desk to lovingly caress her husband's cheek before leaving.

Bez gazed fondly at his departing wife. The first time he'd called her _imzadi_—the strongest endearment in the Betazed language—had been on the moon where they first met. It was a slip of tongue, really, or at least something he felt he had absolutely no control over. Only years later did he tell her what it meant. He'd sensed her fall in love with him gradually over the long days they worked together to keep both of their units alive. He hadn't been sure if the feelings he developed for her were his own, or merely a reflection of her emotions, so closely did they parallel in both timing and intensity. He realized when they parted ways and he believed he would never see her again that he wanted to spend his life with her more than anything he'd ever wanted before. That feeling had never faded, in either of them. She made him brave. She gave him the strength to remain in Starfleet during the war. And he could deny her nothing. Right now, that frightened him.

* * *

Odo solidified from regenerating to find Kalaran pacing his quarters. 

"Kalaran," he said with irritation, "you know I don't like to be seen when I regenerate."

"I'm afraid this is urgent. Weyoun is here, and he says he has something important to tell you."

"I'll see what he wants," Odo said with an inward groan.

He and Kalaran emerged onto the bridge, where Weyoun was waiting.

"Foun—Odo, I'm honored that you would see me."

Odo nearly winced at the Vorta's irritating obsequiousness. "After you joined Laas, you should be."

"That's what I want to speak to you about." He looked around at the Jem'hadar on the bridge. "In private…"

"Right this way," Odo said with a shrug, leading Weyoun and Kalaran into the empty room he'd come to think of as his quarters.

Weyoun stared pointedly at Kalaran, as though he expected her to leave.

"I trust her more than I trust you," Odo said. "She's going to hear whatever you have to say."

"I think there may be a spy on this ship," Weyoun said. "A spy for Laas."

"What evidence do you have to support that?" Kalaran asked suspiciously.

"Someone sent him a subspace message telling him about the Jem'hadar hatchery on Pojangka IV. Am I mistaken in assuming that the only people who would know about your intervention there are on this ship right now?"

Odo and Kalaran exchanged glances. The answer to that was no.

"Why do you expect us to trust you?" Kalaran inquired.

Weyoun continued looking at Odo when he answered. "I realized that Laas is the wrong Founder to be leading the Dominion. He's more intolerant and oppressive to the subject worlds than any other Founder in my very long memory. And since the other Founders are no longer concerning themselves with the affairs of the Dominion, the only one I can turn to is you."

Odo wanted to believe him, but he wasn't going to follow that impulse blindly. "But that doesn't answer Kalaran's question: _why_ do you expect us to believe you?"

"Laas hasn't ordered his forces to the Pojangka System," he replied. "You can verify that, if you want to. The majority of the Jem'hadar ships loyal to him are traveling in the opposite direction."

"Why would he do that? He knows how important the Pojangka System is."

Kalaran's eyes widened. "Odo, they're heading for the Wormhole!"

Odo stared at her. "But why would they do that?" he wondered.

Kalaran didn't answer, but it was clear from her expression that she had several ideas, none of them hopeful.

"Weyoun, I don't suppose you know why?"

"No, Odo. Because of my initial hesitance in abandoning you to support him, the Founder doesn't trust me very much. All I know for sure is what I just told you."

"Thank you. Leave us, please," Odo requested.

Weyoun bowed, then returned to the bridge.

"If this is true," Odo said to Kalaran, "then Laas tried to trick us into sending our forces to the Pojangka System."

"Leaving the Wormhole unprotected," Kalaran concluded. "_If_ it's true."

Odo walked to his window and stared out at the stars. "Right now, our strength almost equals Laas's. We can't divide our ships between Pojangka and the Wormhole, and if we wait until we confirm Weyoun's report, it might be too late."

"It's your decision to make, Odo," Kalaran said. She added, more quietly, "But it makes sense to me that Laas would want you cut off from your most likely source of reinforcements before he attacks."

Odo nodded. "Meanwhile, we have the possibility of a spy to investigate."

"I have an idea about that. You could tell each of the Jem'hadar—with strict orders to keep it secret from the others—the location of a hidden base. A _different_ location for each. The spy will tell Laas the location, and Laas will send a probe there. We can have probes of our own in each system programmed to signal us when his probe arrives."

"That could work," Odo said. "But why don't you tell them. You and Jolin'yobek are the ones who usually keep the Jem'hadar informed of such matters."

Kalaran sounded surprised that the answer wasn't obvious. "Because I could be the spy just as easily as any of the Jem'hadar."

"But if you are the spy," Odo said sincerely, "then we've already lost. You're the only Vorta with the necessary expertise in genetic engineering that I can count on." He let that sink in for a moment. "I would appreciate it if you handled the leak. I would like to have a little talk with Laas."

Kalaran nodded. "Very well. What shall we do with Weyoun?"

"Tell the Jem'hadar to keep an eye on him, but I think we can trust him…unless he gives us reason not to."

Kalaran left to the tasks assigned her, and Odo sent a hail to Laas.

A few minutes later, Laas responded. "I certainly hope you're announcing your surrender," he said.

"Why are you sending your ships to the Wormhole?" Odo asked without preamble.

Laas looked surprised, and Odo surmised both that he _was_ sending troops to the Wormhole and that he had no idea how Odo could have learned that information. "As a precaution. _You_ may trust the Federation not to send an invasion force, but _I _don't. I just want an appropriate welcoming committee to be waiting for them when they do."

Odo narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you. If that were true…why would you send part of your forces to Pojangka?" Odo decided to let Laas believe that part of his deception had worked.

Laas didn't have a ready answer. "Because…"

"If you did believe the Federation is going to invade, the Pojangka system would be low priority. You would want to take care of the larger threat first. Just tell me the truth."

Laas considered it, nodded to himself, and answered. "Very well. While I don't believe an invasion is imminent, the Federation _is_ a threat. But it wouldn't be if they had no way of getting here. I'm going to destroy the Wormhole."

Odo froze. "You can't do that!"

"Actually I can. Easily. A large enough kemacite bomb inside the Wormhole will destabilize it and render it useless to the Federation."

"And it would kill the entities that live there!"

"Yes, I've heard about those legends," Laas said, unconcerned. "If they're true…"

"They _are!_ I've met them," Odo said.

"_If_ they're true," Laas continued, "they are unfortunate casualties. All you have to worry about, Odo, is which side of the Wormhole you're going to be on when that bomb detonates." The screen went blank.

Odo ran to the bridge. "How quickly can we have all of our forces at the Wormhole?"

Second Rinak'vaka looked up, confused. "Most of our ships can be there in four or five days. Why?"

"We have to protect it. At _all _costs."


	6. Seeds of Hope

Disclaimer: _Star Trek Deep Space Nine_ is the property of Paramount. And I would like to thank them heartily in advance for not suing.

Spoiler Alert: the books _Unity_ and _Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine: the Dominion_ and _Bajor_.

Chapter 6

Kira rested on thick grass in a meadow encircled by Bajoran trees. The sunlight warmed the surrounding vegetation, filling the air with the scents of damp grass and wildflowers. A gentle breeze blew, carrying the most beautiful music she'd ever heard.

"The Prophets know this hasn't been easy for you," Bareil said softly. "They're giving you this to remind you that there's more to the universe than fear and hate and violence."

"It's good to be reminded of that, sometimes," Kira replied. She pushed herself into a sitting position. "But I need to tell the Emissary what I learned. I need to warn Starfleet."

"There's time," Bareil said. "You can't save a quadrant unless you take care of yourself first."

Kira sighed. "But there's always something more. Some other threat that needs to be stopped, other battles that need to be fought. There's not nearly enough of _this._" She waved her hand to indicate the meadow around her."

Bareil nodded thoughtfully. "There is both good and bad in the Universe, and much that is neither. Everything has both. But the Prophets teach us to have patience with it, and even more love." He stood above her and smiled tenderly. "I love you, Nerys, and I'm grateful that I had you with me when I left."

Kira knew he was saying goodbye. She watched with both sadness and peace as he faded away in ripples of warm shadows that matched the pattern of the wind through the trees and grass.

She breathed the wind, took a moment to savor the sunlight and the warm scents. Then she plucked a piece of grass, crushed it up, and painted on her bare arm the symbols she had to remember. Those symbols would save them.

"Nerys…"

She looked up and saw Odo approaching her, but it wasn't the real Odo. It lacked the substance that Bareil had possessed. This Odo, she sensed, was part of her vision, as perfect and evanescent as the meadow around her.

"I have a gift for you." He dropped a tiny gold and purple flower into the palm of her hand.

"I don't like flowers," she said, "but I love this one because it's from you."

"It's from both of us; that's the point," Odo said.

As Kira watched, the flower decayed until nothing was left but a tiny black seed. "How sad. The flower wilted."

"It was supposed to do that." Odo cupped her hand between his, being careful to keep the seed from blowing away. "This was the reason for the flower's existence. This was hidden inside it the whole time." He leaned forward, as if to kiss her. When his lips were centimeters away from hers, he spoke. "Never forget that a seed this small could destroy a world, or build an empire. Some dangers can only be stopped before they can be seen. Some wars can only be won if the first shot is never fired."

"I understand," Kira replied.

Odo backed away. "You will know what you have to do when the time comes, but you may not know that you know." He stood up and walked away. The music Kira had been hearing grew louder.

Her eyes opened, and she found herself in the infirmary. She sat up slowly and looked around. Dr. Bashir was slumped in a nearby chair, asleep. An alien of a species she had never seen before was playing a strange musical instrument.

"Who are you?" she asked the alien.

He stopped playing, looked at her, and somehow conveyed the impression of a smile with his cheekbones. "I'm Chiarta. I was sent by the Founder Odo to heal you."

Bashir woke up, and had to grab the edge of his chair to keep from falling over. "Kira! I can't believe it. How are you…"

Kira interrupted him. "I need to speak with the Emissary."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Contact him." She slid off the bed and smoothed the hospital gown around her.

"I'm not sure you should be up yet," Bashir commented. He waved a medical tricorder over her.

"It doesn't matter. I need to talk to the Emissary!"

"He's on the station," one of the Bajoran nurses said. "I'll tell him to come here."

"Don't bother." Kira pushed the tricorder aside and started walking toward the door. "Computer, locate Benjamin Sisko."

"Benjamin Sisko is in the captain's office," the impersonal, didactic voice of the computer informed her.

"Kira, wait." Bashir followed her. "You seem to have made a full recovery…in five hours…but I think you need to rest."

"Don't make me hit you, Doctor."

"I could order you, you know," Dr. Bashir argued. "Whatever the Prophets told you, I'm sure it can wait for a couple more hours."

"How long was I out?" Kira asked without slowing her step.

"Twenty-four days. And a lot has happened in that time."

"Did you catch Taran'atar?"

"Yes. He was hiding on the station for weeks before Lieutenant Bez apprehended him."

"Who's Lieutenant Bez?" she asked.

"The temporary chief of security."

Kira finally slowed and looked at the doctor. "Is Ro…?"

"Alive, and making a full recovery thanks to the medical leave I have her on. Like the one I'm going to demand you take if you don't let me finish examining you."

"You wouldn't dare," she threatened before continuing the march to her office.

Chiarta caught up to them, carrying his _vam_ box like a baby in his arms. "If it makes you feel any better, Doctor, I think she's completely healed."

"Thank you for your opinion," Bashir said, huffing slightly from his effort to keep up with Kira, "but I would still rather not have her running through the Promenade minutes after waking up."

Everyone in Ops stopped what they were doing and stared as Kira rushed through with Bashir and the alien at her heals. When they entered the captain's office, Vaughn and Sisko were deeply engrossed in a subspace conversation with Admiral Ross. Vaughn was the first to notice her.

"Captain Kira," he said, surprised. "I'm…happy to see you up." Decades of strict Starfleet discipline couldn't keep his eyes from wandering across her hospital gown to her bare feet.

"Kira?" Sisko said questioningly, not even trying to hide his amusement at her attire.

"Emissary," she breathed. "There's something I need to tell you. Something that involves the security of the Federation." Bashir continued taking her bioreadings as she spoke.

"Your vision from the Prophets?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Great. Now _you're_ getting them, too?" Admiral Ross sighed.

"There's going to be an invasion. A lifeform—it's called _nairait_—it infects other organisms like a virus, but it's intelligent."

Ross and Vaughn exchanged a shocked look. A second of silence ensued. "We were just discussing a possible infection…something we haven't been able to isolate," Ross explained.

"You won't be able to isolate it. Not under normal conditions, anyway," Kira said. "It has the ability to move freely through its host and evade scans. And it vacates dead bodies."

"That explains why we didn't find anything in the corpses on that Romulan warbird," Ross said thoughtfully.

Kira got a frightened look in her eyes. "What Romulan warbird?"

"It was found drifting in Federation space," Sisko told her. "The environmental systems had failed, but it wasn't clear if the crew died before or after that happened."

Kira looked at Ross with wide eyes. "Sir, it's imperative that the environmental systems not be restored to that ship. Nairait can survive indefinitely in a vacuum, but it can't generate its own heat. Until those systems are restored, it will be innocuous."

Ross frowned. "The ship that found it already restored environmental systems and sent an away team to investigate. Days ago."

"Then they're already infected," Kira said solemnly.

"It's worse." Ross took a deep breath. "There have been other cases like this all over the Klingon and Romulan empires. This is just the first known instance of it reaching the Federation."

"Admiral, I strongly recommend everyone on the ship that found the warbird be placed in quarantine. Not on their own ship, though. Somewhere that doesn't have access to weapons."

"I'll see what I can do, but they've already visited a space station and two planets since it happened. If they were infected, it may already have spread." He leaned forward and locked eyes with Kira. "Did your Prophets tell you anything else about this infection? Like how to cure it, maybe?"

"It's vulnerable to cold," she said distractedly. "Anyone who's suspected of being infected should be put immediately in stasis."

"Thank you, Captian," Ross said, looking deeply concerned. "Ross out."

In the suddenly silent room, everyone stared at Kira.

"Well," Bashir said to break the silence, "other than signs of fatigue, I don't see anything physically wrong with you. I suppose I can allow you to return to your duties…though I'm not sure this quite meets the Starfleet dress code."

Kira rewarded Bashir's attempt at humor with a hollow smile. "Doctor, I want you to implement more thorough biofilter scans on all incoming ships until further notice."

"What am I looking for?" he asked.

"I don't know. Anything anomalous. Vaughn," she turned to her first officer, "find a way to place the entire station in stasis in case the nairait reaches us."

"I'm not sure that's possible."

"_Find_ a way."

He nodded and exited to Ops.

Kira turned to Chiarta. "Whoever you are…thank you."

"Does that mean I can go now?" he asked, clearly a little frightened by the talk of infection.

"Yes. Convey my gratitude to Odo, if you wouldn't mind. Tell Commander Vaughn to clear you for departure."

Chiarta hurried away.

Kira and Sisko were left alone in the office. "You knew something like this was coming, didn't you?" Kira asked without turning around.

"I had some idea."

"Did the Prophets tell you we can't defeat it on our own?"

Sisko looked at her questioningly. "No, they didn't. But I did know it would be unlike anything we've ever faced before."

"That's not entirely true." She turned around. "Something like this—a different strain of nairait—threatened to infect the population of Earth centuries ago. It was stopped. A group of explorers found a way to destroy it."

"Do you know how they did it?" Sisko asked.

"No. But I do know how to contact them." She went to the computer and typed in the symbols she'd seen in her vision: a set of stellar coordinates. "This is where they came from, and where they returned to when they left."

"That's deep within the Beta Quadrant!" Sisko exclaimed. "It would take years to get here at maximum warp."

"Nevertheless, this is where we need to go for answers. Computer, how long would it take a subspace message to reach these coordinates?"

"Five months and eleven days," the computer responded.

"Let's hope that gives us enough time," she said. "I'm sending a distress signal to that system, including a request for information on the nairait."

"I'm not sure the situation quite qualifies as distress," Sisko opined.

Kira finished sending the message. "By the time their reply gets here, it will."


	7. Hate, Love, and Longing

Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Trek Deep Space Nine,_ and I'm certainly not profiting from it.

Spoiler alert: _Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine: the Dominion_.

Chapter 7

Laas hated regenerating. It was a waste of time and a weakness. He pitied humanoids who had to sleep nearly a third of their lives. Didn't they understand how vulnerable and unproductive that made them? They probably didn't. They were fools.

As soon as he awoke from regenerating, the Vorta Lidan had news to report. "Founder, we just decoded the last message from our spy on Odo's ship," he said.

Laas gave him permission to continue.

"The traitor Weyoun has joined them, as we feared he would. Odo's forces are secretly constructing a Jem'hadar base in the Eka'gar system. Over fifty Jem'hadar ships loyal to Odo are patrolling the space around the Wormhole, with more expected to join them. We also have some interesting news from our subspace monitors in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Continue," Laas commanded.

"The Jem'hadar Odo sent to prove they can be more than just killing machines," the Vorta said this with a derisive sneer, "attacked the woman he was ordered to serve. They're holding him until Odo decides what to do with him."

A slow smile spread across Laas's unformed features. He was very familiar with the Taran'atar situation…and Deep Space Nine's holding cells. "Lidan, Dikana's ship is still near the Wormhole, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Hail it, on a secure frequency. I have a little job for them."

* * *

"We're being hailed. It's Chiarta, the Iriniadi," Second Rinak'vaka announced. 

Odo tensed. Chiarta's return could only mean one of two things: Kira had recovered, or…The other possibility was too painful to contemplate.

"He's requesting permission to board," Rinak'vaka added, slightly nonplussed.

"Permission granted," Odo said.

A moment later, Chiarta was beamed onto the _Shkalek's_ bridge. "I hope you don't mind my intrusion, Founder Odo, but I wanted to deliver my news in person."

"I don't mind at all," Odo said, recalling the Iriniadi preference for communicating in person, considering it more polite than sending messages over long distances.

"I'm happy to report that your friend has recovered completely. Might I add that she's very beautiful? I understand completely why you would be so interested in her wellbeing. And I don't usually find non-Iriniadi attractive. But she just has a…_something_ that would be appreciated by any species."

Kalaran smiled in amusement. "Believe me, he knows. When he gets in the right mood he can talk about her virtues for hours."

"She's a remarkable woman," Odo said. The news of her recovery felt like a physical burden being lifted off his chest. He wanted to go to her so much, but he didn't dare. And not just because he needed to oversee the defense of the Wormhole; he had been the one who put Kira's life in danger by sending her Taran'atar, and although he didn't honestly believe she would hate him for it, he was terrified that she would.

"She also seems to have had a vision while she was unconscious," Chiarta added tentatively. "From what I overheard, she seems to think there's an infectious lifeform about to threaten her quadrant."

"Thank you for telling me." Odo decided he would wait until he could send a secure message, and then call Kira to ask about it. Or at least use that as an excuse to speak to her. Of course, with the tense stalemate quickly forming between the rival leaders of the Dominion, it could be a while before he had that chance.

* * *

On one mission, back in her days with the resistance, Shakaar had rebuked Kira for punching out her fellow resistance member, Olin Tafana. He was supposed to plant a bomb in an office building, but when they saw how much security the building had, Kira decided she should do it herself. Olin disagreed. Kira had stopped Olin not because she was worried he could get hurt—she never had much cared for him—but simply because she thought she had a better chance of success. Olin wasn't the most careful of the cell's members, as evidenced by how he managed to get himself killed in a later operation, but he probably would have been able to plant the bomb. 

The point was Kira disliked trusting important things to other people. That's why she was so unhappy that she couldn't do anything about the impending nairait epidemic. She had told Starfleet Medical everything she knew about it (though she hadn't been very specific on where she got her information) and now she could only sit back and hope the measures they had in place to contain its spread would work, and wait for a response from the Beta Quadrant which could be over a year in coming, if it came at all.

She was having trouble focusing on the paperwork she had to catch up on. And yet a very angry security chief marching into her office wasn't quite a welcome distraction.

"We have to talk," Ro said in a tone that indicated what she really wanted to say was far more vile, and probably would have been punctuated with a physical injury.

"What's the problem?" Kira asked as politely as she could.

"You know…very well what the problem is." It took great effort for Ro not to use unprofessional expletives. "You authorized a transfer to my department without consulting me."

"You've never complained when I did that before." Kira put her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her fist. "I take it you don't get along with Lieutenant Burnau Bez?"

Ro slammed her hand on the desk. The action seemed to calm her. "That man is an arrogant, insensitive, inconsiderate…" she searched for any insult in any language foul enough to describe him, and finally settled on a Klingon word with a meaning and pronunciation she wasn't entirely sure of, but which sounded about right. "…_p'taQ._"

"Well, he requested the transfer, and I couldn't think of any reason not to approve it. He seems to have handled security well enough while you were on medical leave. His wife has already rented space on the Promenade for a holosuite theater."

"His wife," Ro bit her lip as she spoke the word, "is a heartless, vindictive woman who only wants to start a business on Deep Space Nine to ruin Quark."

So that was it, Kira realized. "Personally, I don't see anything wrong with a little friendly competition. Quark has had the only holosuites on the station for years, and if you ask me, they've always been overpriced. Besides, he still has the casino monopoly."

"Have you _met_ Nshevalth, Captain?"

"I've said hello to her once or twice," Kira said.

"She's _insufferable._ I honestly don't know how they stand each other."

Kira took a deep breath and made a decision. "Ro, I appreciate the job you've done as security chief, and I trust your judgment, so if you seriously believe you'll have a problem working with Bez, I'll rescind my approval of the transfer, but I won't deny Nshevalth the right to open a business on the Promenade. It's not that…it's not _because_ I don't like Quark: she has as much right to be there as he does."

Ro looked a little shocked. "Thank you, Captain."

"But I think you should take a week to think about it. You might get along with Lieutenant Bez better as your inferior than your replacement. If in a week you're still adamant about this, I'll remove him. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Dismissed."

* * *

Nshevalth rearranged the bottles on the shelf behind the counter yet again. In a few minutes, Wormhole Holotheater and Café would be opening for its first business day. She hadn't expected, when she came up with the idea of competing with Quark's, that she would actually be excited. But it did make sense: she'd been fascinated by Deep Space Nine since the Dominion War began, and often longed to visit it. Once she had seen it, she wasn't the least bit disappointed, and settling down here certainly had its appeals. Burnau had agreed with it more quickly than she dared hope. He still had his heart set on retiring to Betazed, but he was as content to serve on Deep Space Nine as he would have been on a starship. 

She opened the store and waited. She didn't have any spectacular hopes for business on the first day, so she was surprised when Captain Kira walked through the doors.

"Can I get you something, Captain?" Nshevalth inquired.

"Raktajino, please."

"Would you like Betazoid chocolate froth or Orion caramel cream or something on it?"

Kira paused to consider. She'd never been offered choices like that at the replimat. "No, I think I'll just have it plain today."

"Coming up." Nshevalth turned to a strange machine, scooped raktajino beans into it, and pushed some buttons. A minute later, fresh brewed raktajino spurted into a tall, double-handled, translucent mug, which Nshevalth placed delicately on the counter.

Kira stared at the steaming mug. Intellectually, she knew there had to be such a thing as non-replicated raktajino, but she had never, in her memory, actually witnessed it being made. She took a careful sip of the substance, then closed her eyes in a state of primal bliss. "Mmm!" she declared. So much flavor! So many varied nuances and subtle shades of taste!

"I take it you approve?"

Kira took another sip before answering. "Let's just say, I think your business is going to do just fine here."

"I'm glad to have your vote of confidence."

Kira smiled at the tall, dark alien. She considered what Ro said. 'Insufferable' wasn't the first word Kira would choose to describe her. Not even close.

"Next time, you ought to try it with the caramel cream," Nshevalth recommended. "It's Burnau's favorite."

"Perhaps I will." Kira took a bigger sip. The drink was slightly cooler now, making it easier to drink. She swished it across her tongue, savoring it, then swallowed slowly, letting its heat suffuse her insides.

Nshevalth decided to make a cup of her own. She topped it with a mint green cream, then sat down in a tall stool on her side of the counter. She rested her elbows on the counter and inhaled the steam coming off her drink. Her arms were so long and slender they would have been physically impractical if Tzenkethi bones weren't unusually pliant.

Kira mirrored the other woman's posture. "How long have you been married, if you don't mind my asking?"

"A couple of years, but we knew each other for a long time before that."

"Do you love him very much?"

"That is why I married him," she said with a wide smile.

"Would you still have opened this place if he hadn't been transferred here?"

Nshevalth considered the question for a moment. "I don't know. I like this place, and I kind of felt like a useless tag-along when he was serving on the _Alexandria_."

"If he went back to serving on a ship now, would you close this place and go with him?"

She looked around. "You know, I don't think so. There are many Starfleet spouses who choose to stay on their home planet and see their spouse only on occasion. I love him enough to wait for him, but in the meantime I need a life of my own."

"And you would trust him to be away from you that long?" Kira asked.

"Well, you have to understand that Tzenkethi are far more…tolerant of such things. In Tzenkethi wedding ceremonies, the ones who read the ritual words—usually the parents or siblings of both parties—ask the spouses to support each other emotionally, socially, physically, and financially until such time as they deem it no longer practical, convenient, and/or enjoyable. No vows of fidelity, no 'till death do us part'."

Kira raised her eyebrows and leaned forward with interest. "I take it marriages don't last long there."

"It depends on how you look at it. A marriage that ends in divorce can still be considered a successful marriage, and spouses can spend years away from each other without a problem. During the Dominion War, Burnau and I would often go months without hearing from each other, but our love only grew. He's my _imzadi_; we could be on opposite sides of the galaxy, but we would still be together."

Kira had started the conversation to find out what Nshevalth would do if her husband were transferred, but she instead found herself thinking of Odo. "You said you knew each other for years before you were married. Did you start out as friends?"

"Not really. The moment I saw him…I looked into his eyes, and I thought I could see the mysteries of the universe in them. I was captivated. I tried to hide it—if I'd known about Betazoids, I wouldn't have bothered. I left my home planet—separated myself from my family, my friends, and everything I'd ever known—for the slight possibility of being with him, even before I knew he felt the same about me. I used to be afraid that he didn't love me as much as I loved him. I wondered if what I interpreted as signs of his love was just wishful thinking on my part."

Kira realized that Odo must have wondered the same thing about her. "But you don't any more? How did he prove his love for you?"

"Asking me to marry him helped. Also, at one point during the war, the ship I was serving on was shot down by the Jem'hadar, and Bez risked his life to find us."

Kira tried to remember if she ever risked her life to save Odo. She was sure she had, but couldn't think of any specific incidences, though she could remember several occasions when Odo risked his life to save her. "Were you ever in love before you met Burnau?"

Nshevalth looked down, a little embarrassed. "Yes. Twice. Both times with Tzenkethi men. The first one was very religious, and I'm not, and we decided it wouldn't work. The second one died in combat during one of our many border wars."

"I'm sorry."

Nshevalth shrugged. "If either of them worked out, I might have eventually loved them as much as I love Burnau, but I'm glad they didn't. Burnau is worth everything I gave up, and anything I might ever have to endure."

Kira had never asked herself if she loved Odo more than she had loved Bareil or Shakaar, but now she realized she did. And that he didn't know it.

"Thank you," she said after drinking the last of her raktajino. "I enjoyed our chat. I should get to work now."

"Anytime," Nshevalth called after the departing captain, wondering what she had found so significant.


	8. From the Storm

Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own _Star Trek Deep Space Nine_, and I don't own any of its characters, so consider it disclaimed.

Spoiler Alert: Contains spoilers from _Worlds of Star Trek Deep Space Nine: the Dominion _and _Bajor._

Chapter 8

When Ro arrived at her office that morning, Bez was already there, reading something on the security computer.

"Aren't you a little early?" Ro said accusingly.

"Do you have a problem with punctuality?"

Ro decided that, since she was speaking to an unscrupulous telepath, she might as well speak her mind. "No, I have a problem with you."

"Well, you only have to worry about me for another three days. Then you can tell the Captain to transfer me back to the _Alexandria._"

"I…look…forward…to…it," she said, slowly enunciating each word.

Bez sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't know what I did to make you hate me so much. Though I suppose with you it doesn't take much at all."

"_That's_ why. I thought Betazoids were supposed to ask permission before reading people's thoughts."

"I only read the thoughts too loud for me to drown out, but I don't see why I should pretend that I don't. Most Betazoids do that, you know. Some thoughts are like shouts, but they pretend they didn't hear them to make people feel more comfortable."

"But you don't, and that's why people hate you."

Bez rested his arm on the computer screen and looked directly at her. "You don't strike me as someone who goes out of her way to make other people feel comfortable around you. That would be obvious even without my telepathy."

Ro couldn't argue with that through words, and she restrained herself from arguing with her fist.

"You know, I've met Klingons with better tempers than yours," Bez remarked. "Or is there something about me in specific you find particularly infuriating?"

"It's just you, Bez."

"I'm _not_ after your job, you know. And I really hope you'll reconsider letting me work for you."

"Why don't you start raising my opinion of you by being quiet?" Ro suggested. "What are you reading?"

"Everything I can find on the recent massacre on Bajor."

"Ah, yes, that." Ro looked a little ashamed. "So much has happened since then, and the perpetrators disappeared so quickly…"

"There's a human saying that there is no perfect crime. Of course, there's a Tzenkethi saying that good thieves convince you there was nothing to steal in the first place, but that doesn't seem to apply to the deaths of a hundred villagers."

"Do you have any _helpful_ insight on the subject?"

"Actually," he said, "I've been considering the possibility that the killer is hiding with the outlaws in the Badlands."

Ro wanted to throw something at him. "There's no evidence that the people in the Badlands are outlaws."

"Then _why_ are they in the Badlands?" Bez asked, clearly expecting Ro to take it as an incontrovertible point.

Ro sighed and rubbed her nose ridges. It would be a _long_ three days.

* * *

"There's a ship coming through the Wormhole," Tenmei said. "It's sending a distress signal. And venting plasma." 

"Can you identify it?" Vaughn asked.

"It's a Dominion ship. I'm opening a channel."

A female Vorta appeared on the screen. "Deep Space Nine, this is the Dominion ship _Ti'irok._ We have an emergency. Requesting immediate assistance."

Kira walked out of her office and addressed the Vorta. "What's your condition?"

"Our ship was damaged by an unidentified astrological phenomenon while patrolling the edges of Dominion space. The Wormhole was closer to our position than any Dominion outpost. Please, I'm not sure how much longer my ship will hold together."

"At the rate they're venting plasma," Tenmei ventured, "they could have a warp core breach at any moment."

Vaughn looked expectantly at Kira.

"What's your name?" Kira asked the Vorta.

"Dikana," she answered, looking confused at the request. Her bridge was full of smoke, through which Jem'hadar could be seen fading in and out of the background.

"Cut power to your engines, Dikana. We'll pull you in with a tractor beam."

"Thank you." The screen went blank.

"They've cut engines. I'm pulling them in." Tenmei pressed the appropriate buttons.

"Captain, I think we should alert security," Vaughn suggested. "Not that I don't trust the Dominion, but…"

"But you don't trust the Dominion. I'll notify Ro." Kira touched her combadge, but before she could speak, the lights flickered and alarms started blaring.

"I'm picking up a power surge on all decks," Tenmei informed them, raising her voice to be heard over the noise. "I think it came from the Dominion ship through the tractor beam. Weapons, shields, and internal sensors are offline."

Five Jem'hadar beamed into Ops.

Kira's eyes widened. Before she had time to think, she had a phaser in her hand. The Jem'hadar were armed both with phaser rifles and blades. They clearly meant business.

Kira's phaser dropped one of them before they could fire a shot. As they focused their attention on her, the other crew members burst into action, punching, tripping, and generally crowding the outnumbered Jem'hadar. Vaughn, using martial arts moves that looked unnatural coming from a man his age, dropped one Jem'hadar alone before another one turned his weapon on him. Kira fired, killing Vaughn's attacker. A phaser blast grazed her as she threw herself into a roll. The other two were overwhelmed and incapacitated within seconds.

"Is anyone hurt?" Kira asked.

"Only you." Vaughn pointed to the blood staining the left arm of her uniform. "You need to get to the infirmary right away. That blast may have delivered anticoagulants."

"Later. Tenmei, status?"

"Reports are coming in from all over the station. There are Jem'hadar on the Promenade, in the habitat ring, in Quark's…"

* * *

At the moment, Quark's bar was a case study in pandemonium. Six Jem'hadar had beamed in to the middle of the casino and immediately started shooting randomly. The customers that hadn't ducked behind or beneath something were screaming and running around chaotically. 

Quark's instincts told him to duck behind his counter, but more basic instincts told him to protect his bar, and thus his profits. He grabbed the closest thing in sight—a bottle of synthehol—and threw it squarely at the nearest Jem'hadar's head. He didn't react in the slightest to the broken glass and reddish liquid dripping down his face. He stoically continued to terrorize the crowd.

Treir, the tall, green-skinned Orion dabo girl, ran out of the kitchen area wielding two knives, one in each hand. She cleared the bar in a single leap and threw herself into one of the attackers. She let go of one of her knives (the one stuck in his neck) and twisted the phaser out of his hands. She aimed it at the next nearest Jem'hadar, but he knocked it away. Instead of letting go, Treir swung the heavy gun around and hit him in the head. He stopped his fall with an arm on the countertop, but before he could push himself off to kill the insolent dabo girl, someone tapped on his shoulder. He glanced over in time to see a beefy Lurian fist heading for his nose.

Morn pushed the unconscious Jem'hadar to the floor, grabbed a barstool, and hit another Jem'hadar over the head with it.

"Morn!" Treir shouted. When she saw she had his attention, she round kicked a Jem'hadar in the head. As he staggered backward, Morn dropped the barstool in his path. The Jem'hadar fell backward and hit his head on the floor. The last thing he saw was the barstool he'd just tripped over about to connect with his face.

Morn snatched the phaser rifle out of Treir's hand and took out another one. The remaining two turned their rifles towards him, but he threw the rifle in his hands at one of them, hitting him hard in the face. He realized too late that there was nothing he could do about the other one and flinched as he expected a phaser blast to end his life any moment. When it didn't come, he opened his eyes to see the Jem'hadar collapse with Treir's other knife in his stomach. She took his phaser rifle and put him and the other Jem'hadar out of their misery.

Morn and Treir looked around the bar, searching for casualties and any Jem'hadar they'd missed. Then they looked at each other.

"Are you okay?" Treir asked with sincere concern.

Morn was too winded to speak, and only nodded.

Treir's face broke into a smile. "We make a good team."

Morn smiled back.

"I think I'm going to be sick," said Quark, peeking out at them from behind the bar.

* * *

Someone cut the lights on the Promenade. Ro swore harshly and turned on the flashlight attached to her phaser. She heard phaser fire in the level above. She aimed her light towards it, and saw Deputy Arkra trying to fend off a Jem'hadar. The attacker tore Arkra's phaser out of his hand, grabbed him by the chest, and tossed him over the railing. 

"Arkra!" Ro shouted in dismay. She reflexively fired her phaser at the Jem'hadar, who fell forward over the railing himself.

Ro ran over to her fallen colleague. She kicked the Jem'hadar's body away, then checked Arkra's vitals. He wasn't breathing.

"No!" She hit her combadge. "Ro to Bashir, we have a medical emergency on the Promenade."

"In case you haven't noticed, Ro," Bashir replied harshly, "the entire Promenade _is_ a medical emergency! I'm afraid you'll have to do whatever you can there for the moment."

Ro heard screams in the dark from several directions, but she didn't want to leave Arkra if there was any chance of saving him.

"I'll take care of him. Don't worry. Go."

She looked up. The contours of Bez's face were barely visible from the light of Ro's dropped phaser.

"You know this station better than I do. I'll do what can for him." Bez dropped to his knees, checked Arkra's airway, felt for broken ribs, then started CPR.

"Thankyou," Ro breathed before grabbing her phaser and running in the direction of the nearest screams.

* * *

Nshevalth hadn't known what to think when the lights cut out in her café. She told her customers to stay calm, then walked out to see what was happening. Her eyes sucked in any stray photon, allowing her to see more than the humanoids could. And what she saw confused her. Jem'hadar had beamed onto the station in scattered packets of five or less. In a situation in which they were heavily outnumbered, Jem'hadar usually bunched together. But she didn't puzzle over it too long. She thought of the friends she'd lost to the Jem'hadar, and her husband, who would be in the thick of the fighting. These thoughts extinguished the spark of fear that the Jem'hadar initially inspired in her. She unhesitantly leaped over the railing. Her foot kicked out and broke the neck of a Jem'hadar right before she reached the floor, and she used his body to cushion her fall. 

A bright light approached her. She looked up. The glaring beam almost—_almost—_blinded her to the large Jem'hadar silently running up behind the unsuspecting flashlight wielder.

Nshevalth grabbed the rifle. "Duck!" she shouted.

Whoever it was realized in time that the warning was directed at her and fell to the ground in a roll. Nshevalth shot the Jem'hadar pursuer.

Ro heard the sound of a blade hitting the floor. She pointed her flashlight to it. Right behind it was the body of the Jem'hadar, slightly over a meter away. In another second, she would have been a dead woman. The flashlight's beam then sought out the face of her rescuer.

Nshevalth closed her eyes against the brightness. "Turn that thing off; every Jem'hadar on the station is going to use it to target you."

"_Nshevalth?_" Ro gasped, lowering her light, but not turning it off. "What are you doing here? You're a civilian!"

"I'm a trained Tzenkethi warrior, and I can see better in low light than you or any other humanoid on this station. And I'm helping whether you like it or not." She shot another Jem'hadar who had taken aim at the security chief's flashlight.

Ro raised her light to look at the dead Jem'hadar, then she finally took Nshevalth's advice and turned it off. "Alright. Come on. We need to get to Ops."

There was still enough ambient light filtering in from sections of the station that still had power for Nshevalth to navigate by. She grasped Ro by the shoulder and led her through the Promenade, shooting any Jem'hadar she spotted along the way.

* * *

Two Jem'hadar were approaching. Bez couldn't see them, but he could feel their thoughts. So focused. The Jem'hadar were the most single-minded species Bez had ever encountered. These two were eager to kill anything they came across, but that wasn't their primary motive, just their method. They would kill or maim or break things until they were killed. This was a suicide mission. 

Bez knew that they would find him, and that he should run, but he still sensed Arkra's _pagh_, or whatever it was, struggling to cling to his injured body. Bez couldn't leave him. But if the Jem'hadar found them, they would both die.

Bez wished, not for the first time, that he had been on his planet when it defeated the Dominion occupying force. He felt guilty that so many of his people had died for their homeworld while he was off fighting other battles. But now was the first time that he wished he'd been there for a more practical reason: if he'd learned the dangerous and controversial telepathic technique that the Betazoids used against the Jem'hadar, he could use it to save the station.

But he had to make do with what he had. He remembered seeing a Jem'hadar corpse nearby when Ro was there. He left Arkra for a moment and felt around the floor until he found the body. He took the Jem'hadar's large knife out of its sheath.

The two Jem'hadar were about to trip over them when they detected Bez's presence. With a wordless battle cry, Bez slashed the knife towards the closest one. He empathically registered the Jem'hadar's pain, but his enemy didn't go down, instead he backhanded Bez, knocking him to the ground. Bez's grunt of pain allowed both Jem'hadar to pinpoint his location, and they both dove for him. Bez managed to roll out of the way, then lifted himself to his feet. His head was pounding. He could only tell the distance of the Jem'hadar by how clearly he could hear their thoughts; he couldn't tell their direction. But he could tell that they knew he was nearby. He decided to try something crazy. Guessing at their approximate positions, he moved between them, then he let the knife clatter to the ground, and followed it an instant later.

The sound of the knife was followed almost immediately by the flash of phaser rifles, and then two dull thuds as the Jem'hadar, hit by each other's weapons, fell to the floor.

Bez crawled back to Arkra's side, and continued work on keeping the other deputy alive.

* * *

Ro and Nshevalth found eight Jem'hadar outside Ops. Not good odds. Ro knew the only advantage she had was the Tzenkethi's eyes, but she decided that whatever was happening there, the crew would need help. 

"Cover me," Ro said, then ran through the group of Jem'hadar, firing her weapon blindly. They fired back, but their aim was equally impaired. Nshevalth took out half of them as they focused on Ro. A serendipitous shot from Ro killed another one.

At that moment, the turbolift doors opened, and a light shone out.

"_No!"_ Ro cried.

The remaining three Jem'hadar took aim at whoever was in the turbolift. The light veered sharply to the side as the new arrival took cover from the onslaught of phaser fire. Nshevalth killed another one. Ro shot a Jem'hadar standing right next to her. The last was taken down by a phaser shot from the turbolift. Then there was silence. The flashlight beam washed over the Jem'hadar corpses.

"You would be dead if you chose to make your entrance a minute ago," Ro said critically.

"Then I'm lucky I didn't." It was Kira's voice. "And _you_ might be dead if I decided to make my entrance a minute later. Who's that with you?"

"Nshevalth," she said. "She can see better in low light than we can. Or the Jem'hadar, luckily. How are things in Ops?"

"Five Jem'hadar beamed in, but we took care of them. When we figured out there were no lights on the Promenade, I decided I should come and see what I could do."

"Brilliant," Ro said in a tone more sarcastic than she would usually use with her commanding officer.

"I don't understand," Nshevalth remarked. "If the Jem'hadar in Ops were killed, why are these Jem'hadar waiting outside it? They couldn't have expected anyone to leave Ops at a time like this."

"I don't know," Kira said, "but we should go see where else they might be making trouble." Assuming the role of leader, Kira began walking.

"Captain, you might want to turn off the light and let Nshevalth lead," Ro suggested. "That way, the Jem'hadar won't see us before we see them."

Kira signaled her agreement by turning off her light. She and Ro walked next to Nshevalth—close enough to keep in physical contact—and she led them along the upper floor of the Promenade. They came upon a group of five Jem'hadar outside the upper entrance to Quark's, but the three women dispatched them with little difficulty. Then they continued.

_Nshevalth?_

She suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Ro asked.

"Shh!"

_Burnau. Where are you?_

_Listen, the Jem'hadar are on a suicide mission…_

_That explains why they're keeping in small groups. They're trying to draw us away from something. What?_

_The security office! They must be after Taran'atar! Oh dear gods! Deputy Minelli! _

_I'm with Ro right now. We're on our way._

She turned to her companions. "That was Burnau. We have to get to the security office."

"How did you…? Okay, that's creepy," Ro said, but she turned in her tracks and started towards her office.

"Watch out!" Nshevalth warned.

Ro froze. "Where?"

"Uh, you were just about to trip over a body," Nshevalth explained, a bit sheepishly.

"Maybe you should lead. You know your way to the security office?" Kira asked.

"Yes. My husband does work there, after all."

They arrived a minute later. Ro turned on her flashlight, then gasped at what she saw. Deputy Minelli, a half-human, half-Bolian Starfleet security officer, was spread out on the floor, dead. A Jem'hadar corpse mirrored his position in the opposite direction. Ro jumped over the body and ran to the holding cells.

Taran'atar was gone.

"Why would they go through all this trouble to take him?" Nshevalth wondered aloud.

"It could be to punish him. He disobeyed a Founder, and the Dominion doesn't look kindly on Jem'hadar who do that," Kira speculated. Then added to herself, "but somehow I doubt it."

* * *

The next morning, Ro walked in to Kira's office with a damage assessment. 

"Including Ethanthoras Minelli, four dead," she informed her.

"Considering the situation, I'd say we were lucky," Kira noted.

Ro nodded half-heartedly. "Over eighty injured, some seriously."

"Arkra?" Kira asked.

"Dr. Bashir thinks he'll make a full recovery, but we came very close to losing him." Ro shifted and glanced down. "On another matter, in light of his actions during the crisis, I've decided to keep Lieutenant Bez around."

"I'm glad to hear that," Kira said with a smile.

"Well, he saved Arkra's life, and Nshevalth saved mine. And without Minelli…"

"You don't have to explain yourself. How many Jem'hadar died?"

Though she kept herself from smiling, Ro couldn't quite hide her satisfaction. "Forty-eight. Thirty-nine were killed in the fighting, the others commit suicide after being captured."

"It doesn't make sense," Kira said. "Why would they sacrifice so many soldiers to rescue one rebel Jem'hadar?"

"I don't know. But I don't think we're going to like the answer."

* * *

Taran'atar awoke in a Dominion brig. 

"I lost all but three of my Jem'hadar," he heard someone say, trying hard to sound like she was joking, rather than complaining. "I hope he's worth it."

"I do, too. You may go."

The prisoner watched the female Vorta leave. The Founder walked over and looked down at him.

"Why am I here?" Taran'atar demanded.

"Considering your history, Dikana thought it a prudent precaution."

"I understand why I am behind a forcefield. Why have you rescued me?"

The Founder smiled. "I have a job for you." He began pacing calmly. "You disobeyed a direct order from a Founder, from a god…"

"Odo is not a god!" Taran'atar spat. "And neither are you."

"I understand why you might say that. Odo has renounced his birthright, and betrayed everything that he is. He is not worthy to be called Founder. But _I_ understand my destiny. I know that the purpose of the Dominion…is conquest."

"That doesn't explain why you brought me here."

"You disobeyed Odo. You _defied _Odo. I wonder…if you would be able to _kill_ Odo."

"Kill Odo…" Taran'atar tasted the words. Then he stared directly at Laas. "Why would I kill Odo and not you? Odo at least does not lie and claim to be a god."

"But Odo is the one who sent you to go to the Alpha Quadrant. He exiled you from your people and forced you to go against your own nature. He's a threat to everything the Dominion stands for. He wants to remake the Jem'hadar into weaklings. I can't order any of my troops to kill him because they are programmed not to harm a Founder. But you have already broken your programming. I believe that you can."

"So do I," Taran'atar admitted.

"Then you will do it?"

The Jem'hadar glared at Laas hatefully. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask."


	9. Wolves in the Folds

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way profiting from, _Star Trek Deep Space Nine._ I'm just borrowing it for a bit.

Chapter 9

Kalaran possessed an eerily mild temper. It had kept her alive more often than not. Thus she managed to smile politely when she called all of the Jem'hadar on the ship to the bridge for what she termed "an inconvenient item of business."

Odo stood behind her, allowing the Vorta to handle things. Weyoun also kept discreetly out of the way.

"I'm afraid we have a slight problem," Kalaran said apologetically. "Somehow, Laas knows all of our movements. He even seems to know that we've caught on to his monitoring of our transmissions. It's like he has ears inside this very ship."

"There must be a traitor among us," growled Fifth Shik'itab.

"Indeed, we feared that may be the case. I really did hope that no one on this ship could possibly break his vow of loyalty to Odo, and in effect sell out the future of his own kind. What should be done with the traitor if we uncover his identity?"

"He should be killed," Third Hin'kotar declared. Many of the others voiced their agreement.

"That's what the Dominion has always done with traitors," Kalaran agreed. "But are we not working for a new Dominion? One ruled by justice and cooperation and freedom? Would a summary execution be in line with such a vision?"

She was answered by uncomfortable silence.

Kalaran walked over to First Jolin'yobek. "What do you think, First? What should be done with the one who betrayed us?"

The First stared forward. He answered, sounding ashamed, "The only law I have ever known demands that traitors be executed. I know of no other way. I defer to Odo in this judgment, as in all things."

"You really feel that way?" Kalaran stated, her lips curling upward slightly. "Then you must be very dedicated to Laas, if you were willing to give your life for him."

Jolin'yobek's neck swiveled. He stared at her intensely. Every other Jem'hadar in the room had a weapon trained on him. "What are you implying, Vorta?"

"That we _know_ you're the traitor." She stared right back at him with no trace of fear or anger. "You see, there is no base in the Eka'gar system."

Odo stepped forward. "First Jolin'yobek, you're hereby demoted to Tenth. Furthermore, you will no longer be allowed to carry a weapon, or be privy to the decisions made on this ship." He addressed the entire audience. "If, and _only_ if, Tenth Jolin'yobek endangers this ship or the life of anyone on it, he is to be stopped or killed. Second Rinak'vaka, you are now the First."

Rinak'vaka bowed, then stripped away Jolin'yobek's weapons.

* * *

Kira couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, like something was out of place or missing. It was making her restless. She had the feeling that she could fix it, if she only figured out what was troubling her. It could have been the continued elusiveness of the nairait. She had been closely following the news from both Starfleet Security and Starfleet Medical, and all she had seen were reports of mysterious deaths and disappearances, mostly in the politically-troubled Romulan Empire, where mysterious deaths and disappearances were common during the best of times. 

Or it could have been Taran'atar's…she wasn't sure weather to call it a rescue or kidnapping. After it happened, she'd sent a message to Dominion space addressed to Odo, but she had no way of knowing if it had reached him.

Arkra Woidil entered the office unannounced. "Captain," he said uncertainly, "I know I should have discussed this with Ro first, but under the circumstances I decided to take it directly to you."

"Take what directly to me?"

Arkra fidgeted nervously. "Lieutenant Bez suggested that the traffic in the Badlands could represent a new Marquis threat. Ro already decided that it didn't concern the security of this station, but I decided to take another look at it. I asked a colleague in the Bajoran Militia to infiltrate them."

"Why didn't you ask me first?" Kira asked. It bothered her to have someone circumvent her authority, even someone she trusted as much as Arkra.

"I…didn't want Lieutenant Ro to find out."

Kira nodded imperceptibly. "Because she used to be in the Marquis."

"No," Arkra negated. "Because I didn't want her to find out I was questioning her judgment."

Kira didn't know whether that constituted insubordination. She decided she'd give it some thought later. "What did your mole discover?"

He looked at her directly in the eyes, more serious than she had ever seen him before. And that was saying a lot. "That there is a new group calling themselves the Marquis, but they're not after the Cardassians this time."

"Who are they after?"

"The Dominion."

* * *

Nshevalth was nearly ready to close her shop for the night when she had a visitor. 

"What can I do for you?" she asked tightly.

"Get your grubby paws off my market," Quark replied.

Nshevalth tried hard to make her smile appear polite, rather than mocking. "I'm sorry, am I taking away your customers?"

"We both know what you're doing. By dealing in Federation credits instead of gold-pressed latinum, like any sensible businessperson, you're undermining the whole point of capitalism."

"Has it not occurred to you that people appreciate a little diversity in their holoprograms? Sometimes people need a break from the rather monolithic genre options you offer them." She allowed her smile to lose whatever politeness she'd managed to squeeze into it.

"You're a conniving, vindictive woman, and I really wish you had gone into business _with_ me, instead of against me."

"That's quite a compliment. Too bad you didn't offer me that possibility."

"Yeah, too bad," he mumbled as his eyes wandered across the countertop. Then he shot his gaze directly at her. "So how much is it going to cost me?"

"How much is what going to cost you?" she asked, examining her hands in a show of unconcern.

"For you to get out of the holosuite business. You can keep the café…"

In the same tone she would use to ask him to speak up, she inquired, "I'm sorry, are you threatening me?"

"Me? No. I just…was hoping we could let bygones be bygones. I believe we've both learned a lot from this little demonstration…"

"I don't believe I've learned a thing, though I trust _you've_ learned not to cross a Tzenkethi."

"I hope you don't think I'm here solely to protect my own interests. I'm concerned about _you_. You have no idea how dangerous it can be to run a business on this station…you don't even know who's going to be in charge from one week to the next…"

Nshevalth placed her hands on the counter and leaned forward, towering over the Ferengi. "Quark," she said, "have you ever seen what a Breen looks like underneath its environmental suit?"

"N-no."

"Trust me when I tell you that nothing you can say is going to intimidate me."

Someone else entered. "Is he giving you problems, Nshevalth?" Kira asked.

Nshevalth stood up straight. "No. We just had a little something to discuss, but I think we've worked it out. Right, Quark?"

He nodded, then hurried to leave. Kira nearly laughed at the expression on his face.

"That's Quark," she said when he was out of earshot. "Devious, but easily intimidated. Are you closed already?"

"Yes, but if you want something I'll make it for you."

"I'd like a raktajino with Bardeezan spice cream, if you don't mind."

Nshevalth went to work on the order. "Anticipating a late night?" she asked sympathetically.

Kira responded with a noncommittal "Mm," then elaborated. "I've learned to recognize the nights when I might as well not even try to sleep."

"Insomnia?"

"It comes with the job," she said with a shrug.

Nshevalth handed her the raktajino. "Quite frankly, I wonder about the sanity of people who willingly assume leadership responsibilities. No offense…"

"Believe me, I didn't want this position," Kira said, "but somebody has to do it." She sipped her drink and Nshevalth fell silent, recognizing that her customer needed time to think. "What does 'imzadi' mean?" Kira asked abruptly.

"It's a Betazoid word. It refers to a loved one…something like 'dearest' or 'beloved', but for a Betazoid the relationship denoted by the word _imzadi_ is a kind of telepathic connection, a closeness that few other species can even comprehend."

"A connection," Kira repeated. "Do they believe that an _imzadi_ can be part of someone's destiny?"

"I suppose so. They definitely believe that this connection exists even before two people meet each other, that the connection draws them together."

"Do the Tzenkethi have any belief like that?"

"To an extent," she answered slowly. "It depends on who you ask. The ancient poet and philosopher Omthaja wrote 'Love is the realization that a piece of you was taken away and hidden within someone else'. But most modern Tzenkethi scoff at the suggestion that there is a 'the one'. Rather, they believe you should seek out someone you not only love, but can stand to be with for a long time and under difficult circumstances. They don't often overlap." Nshevalth examined Kira's thoughtful expression, then continued. "Even though they don't believe people are destined to meet and fall in love, the Tzenkethi do understand that love is a powerful force. They emphasize in history books how it influences the course of events. In fact, Tzenketh was united when a young scion of a clan of marauders fell in love with a princess of the Churangi Archipelago and conquered the continent of Yotketh in an effort to impress her. When she saw what he accomplished in her name, she fell in love with him—or at least found it politically expedient to pretend to. So she murdered her family and married him, and together they conquered and ruled the rest of the planet."

"How romantic," Kira said with a wince. Then her lips twisted into a smile. "That does explain a lot about Tzenkethi politics."

Nshevalth smiled back. "The comment I made about insanity and leadership goes doubly for the Tzenkethi. I would even go as far as to say people who pursue leadership positions on Tzenketh have to be at least slightly suicidal."

They smiled a moment longer, then grew serious. Kira gazed thoughtfully into her cup, Nshevalth looked thoughtfully at Kira. "I heard about you and Odo," she said quietly. "It must have been hard to let him go. I'm sorry. For both of you."

"Everyone is," Kira mumbled. She didn't look away from the creamy orange swirls on the surface of her raktajino. "When I took him back to his people, I was ready to never see him again," she admitted. "Even before that, long before that, I got used to the idea that I wouldn't be with him forever. When I learned he was dying…I'm not saying it wasn't painful; I'd watched lovers die in front of me before, and I didn't want to lose him the same way. But when everyone you love dies, you kind of get used to it…You come to expect that the person you're with won't be around for long, and you get used to the idea, or you can never let yourself get close to anyone. That's the way it was during the occupation: mourning meshed seamlessly with business as usual. It was just a fact of life. But with Odo…I was expecting to lose him, but I didn't. I thought it would be the same as if he died, that I would just move on in my life. But I know he's still there. He's still…here." She chuckled without smiling. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Nshevalth said. "You still love him. You probably will have that link to him until one of you dies. It doesn't mean it was wrong for him to leave you, or that you should drop everything to be with him. And it doesn't mean you can't be with someone else, if you feel so inclined. But whatever bond you had with him is still there, and it makes you stronger. It makes you happy."

She realized Nshevalth spoke from personal experience. "You're right. I only wish I knew he felt the same way."

"You could ask him," she suggested.

Kira looked up, cocking her head to the side, wondering if Nshevalth had picked up any telepathy from being married to a Betazoid. "Can I ask your opinion on something? If you thought the man you loved was in danger, but you had absolutely no idea what you could do about it, and trying to rescue him could possibly put him in more danger, would you try anyway?"

"If I tried to save him and failed, at least I would know that I _did try_. If I did nothing, and he died…I don't think I could live with the guilt."

Kira nodded, put down her quarter-empty raktajino, and walked out. She went directly to Ops, left instructions transferring command of the station temporarily to Commander Vaughn, then got in a runabout.

* * *

The airlock door swished open, and in walked a petite, striking Klingon woman with short cropped hair and a youthfulness that belied her reputation. 

"Doctor Grek, I presume," Bashir greeted her, extending his hand in welcome.

"Doctor Bashir, I have been anticipating this day for many years. It an honor to finally meet you." She shook his hand vigorously.

"The honor is mine," he insisted. "I loved your paper on Hrajoloan cometary plasmodia. Superb work. Very innovative."

"I'm inured to flattery, Doctor," she said with a modest smile. "I just hope my work will shed some light on this 'nairait' I keep hearing about."

"Yes. When we spoke earlier, you said something about finding a possible nairait reference in a Klingon scientific survey report? Perhaps you can tell me more on our way to my lab?"

"Of course. The report I referred to was written by a xenobiologist on a Klingon survey ship seven years ago. They were on a long-term mission on the far side of Klingon space. They found an unknown gel-like material on a meteoroid. It had properties unlike anything they'd ever seen before. They took a small sample to the lab, and it started acting…alive. It was not carbon based. In fact, they had significant trouble identifying its exact chemical composition, as it was resistant to scans. Then it disappeared from the lab. They later discovered it had infected the medic, and they were forced to vent the medic and two other crewmembers into space in order to save the ship."

They reached Bashir's lab. "That's a lot more information than we've had to go on. I would be very interested in reading that report myself."

"I'll make sure it's sent to you," Dr. Grek said. "Meanwhile, I'd like to see the transmission rate speculations you've come up with."

Bashir already had a PADD with the requested information. He handed it to her. "Frightening, isn't it?" he mumbled. "Most mind-controlling parasites give _some_ physical indication of their presence in their host—chemical signatures, protrusions, mass differentials, _something!_ But this…just seems invisible."

"Parasitism is a remarkably successful evolutionary adaptation," Grek remarked. "What interests me most about this is that it's so…non-biological. It's as strange as if a cloud of positronium started acting sentient."

A horrible thought occurred to him: the far side of the Klingon Empire was well into the Beta Quadrant; the pattern of possible nairait infections was advancing from the Beta into the Alpha Quadrant; the coordinates where Kira had sent her distress call were even deeper in the Beta Quadrant. What if the species she was trying to contact—the species that, according to her vision, defeated the nairait once before—had already been conquered by it?

Then what hope was there for them?


	10. Unveiled

Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Trek_ _Deep Space Nine_, and I'm not profiting from this work. Alas.

Love it? Hate it? Please feel free to express your honest opinion. I accept unsigned reviews.

Chapter 10

Wormhole Café and Holotheater was packed full that evening. Nshevalth jotted down a note to make more copies of her original holonovel _The Resurrection of Shuru_, a mystery story that Nog and Vaughn had been recommending to everyone they spoke to, judging by the number of requests she'd gotten for it that night. She was making Prynn Tenmei's order for shfileiu tea latte, which had to be steeped extremely delicately, when a familiar voice entered her thoughts.

_Busy tonight, I see. Perhaps I should return later._

_Never too busy for you, my love,_ she thought to Burnau. _If you wait five minutes, I'll make you a caramel chocolate raktajino._

_You read my mind._

_I thought that was _your_ job._

Burnau smiled. The proprietress hadn't made any visual or verbal sign that she even knew he was there. Her back was to the entrance as she watched the color of the shfileiu tea. Her long tangerine hair had a silver chain braided into it which tinkled with every slight movement she made. He gazed lovingly at the back of her head for a moment before looking around for an empty seat. He spotted one across the table from Dr. Bashir and a pretty Klingon woman. They were intently reading a PADD and discussing its contents.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" he inquired politely.

He sensed irritation from both of them, but Bashir nodded and gestured to the empty seat.

"Thank you," Burnau said.

The doctors didn't even acknowledge him. They continued their conversation where they had been interrupted. Their topic, the possibility of a noncellular, maybe even nonmolecular lifeform evolving a degree of sentience sufficient to control a sentient host, was entirely beyond his comprehension. Their minds radiated fascination with the subject that almost overshadowed the practical consideration of saving the quadrant from the theoretical lifeform. Bashir had a basic assumption that whatever he came up with would be right, which he tried very hard to suppress by reminding himself of all the times he had been wrong in the past. Dr. Grek had a burning curiosity and desire to examine the lifeform, if it existed, which she believed it did. Her own abilities didn't factor in her equation at all.

Dr. Grek spoke the words "inter-atmospheric cohesion properties" seemingly randomly

_Burnau, your raktajino is ready._

"Excuse me," he said quietly to the doctors before leaving the table.

They gave no indication of noticing he was gone. "This does beg the question of what the nairait needs from the host. Such dissimilar lifeforms…it's doubtful that the nairait could take any kind of sustenance from them." Bashir speculated. "Perhaps the host serves as nothing more than a vehicle for it. A mobility unit."

"Or maybe it needs something from its host other than nutrients. Bioelectric energy or heat. You did mention that lack of heat energy incapacitates it."

"But it would need something to convert metabolically to increase mass and volume. They could use hosts in order to replicate or reproduce. A way of spreading."

"A vector for dissemination. Every surviving organism has the drive to spread, even those rare organisms with mass-regulation-in-isolation capacity."

"But we can't know what it needs to achieve that goal until we figure out what it's made of," said Bashir, deep in thought.

Dr. Grek leaned against the table and looked at Bashir. "Where did you come up with the name 'nairait'? Is it a Bajoran word?"

"No…It's a little complicated," Bashir said diffidently. "I'll explain later. Right now there's something I want to check on." He stood up and left. Grek glanced down at the PADD, a look of suspicion manifesting itself in her features.

* * *

Bashir called Starfleet Medical and asked about the crew of the _Fortitude_, which had been quarantined after Ross's talk with Kira in case they contracted nairait on the derelict Romulan warbird. He was connected to Dr. Zehibmituzm, who was overseeing their quarantine at Deep Space Three. 

"Dr. Zehibmituzm, it's been a long time," Bashir greeted the owlish Orion, horribly mispronouncing his name.

"As I told you before, 'Zehib' is fine," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Have there been any new developments with the patients?"

"We would have contacted you if there were. The patients have exhibited no symptoms of an infection, nor has there been any abnormal behavior. The scans still show nothing unusual."

"If you don't mind, I would like you to send me the complete scan results of every patient."

"That's one hundred and thirty-six full physical exams. A lot of reading."

"Doctor Grek and I might be able to find something you haven't thought of. We've been working on theories of what…"

"Wait!" Dr. Zehib exclaimed. "Dr. Grek, from the Klingon colony of YanQoh?"

Bashir squinted at him. "Yes. She's here lending her insight on the nairait crisis."

"Doctor Bashir, you may be in terrible danger."

"Why?"

"Doctor Grek's laboratory was destroyed in an explosion over a month ago. All employees were presumed dead."

Bashir was shocked into momentary silence. "You think she may be infected?"

Dr. Zehib took a shaky breath and ran his hands over his eyes and through his dark green hair. "It's a possibility…the only one I can think of at the moment." He looked up. "Shall I alert Starfleet Security?"

"Yes," Bashir answered. "But keep it quiet. I'm going to see if I can stop Grek on my own."

"That may be a terrible idea."

"I know, but time is an issue. For all I know, she could have infected everyone on the station already. I _need_ to find out what this thing is."

Dr. Zehib's lips tightened to a grim line. "Alright," he conceded. "But whether you succeed or fail, I'm going to have Starfleet Security keep a close eye on Deep Space Nine."

"Of course you will. Bashir out." He stared at the wall while a plan formed in his mind.

* * *

"Dr. Grek, please come to the infirmary." 

Grek groaned as she pushed herself out of bed. Not that she had been sleeping; she was reading everything she could find on organisms capable of surviving in a vacuum, but it had been a long day, and Grek appreciated soft beds more than most Klingons. "I'll be a few minutes," she replied.

When she entered the infirmary, Bashir was looking at a computer screen. "Dr. Grek," he said without looking up, "there's something I wanted you to see."

He stepped back and allowed her access to the computer. At first she didn't understand what she was seeing, then she realized that it was a conglomerate of meaningless data, and turned to Bashir in confusion.

"Computer, initiate program Bashir sigma-five-one."

"Program initiated."

Grek heard the door seal, saw a forcefield flicker on around her, then felt the temperature in the room drop sharply. "Bashir, what are you doing?"

He didn't answer, only watched her closely, wondering from the look of absolute shock—perhaps even betrayal—on her face if he was wrong about her.

The temperature continued to plummet. Bashir knew that Klingons didn't tolerate cold well, and he had no idea how cold it would have to be to slow down the nairait. He wasn't completely sure it would do any good at all.

"You have no idea what you're doing," Grek said. Suddenly a pinkish-white ooze poured from her mouth and shot at Bashir. It moved through the forcefield like it wasn't there, then rose up in a spiral and latched on to his leg.

Bashir staggered back. He had planned on the forcefield containing it. He could feel it begin to prickle through his skin. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a hypospray of liquid carbon dioxide, which he sprayed on the ooze.

The nairait's movement slowed, then it contracted into a small heap and stilled. He pulled up his trouser leg and sprayed the frigid gas on his exposed skin. A scream of excruciating pain escaped Bashir's throat. Dark purple splotches formed on his skin as the fluid organism seeped out.

After putting on an environmental suit to protect himself from the sub-freezing temperature of the infirmary, Bashir put Dr. Grek in a stasis chamber. He placed the nairait in a customized sample box that kept the temperature at 150 Kelvin. Only when he was sure there wasn't a speck of nairait left in the lab did he reset the environmental controls.

* * *

"Have you had time to examine the lifeform?" Vaughn asked during the meeting Bashir had requested. 

The doctor sighed. He looked exhausted. "Yes. In fact I've been up all night examining it. It defies examination."

"This thing was in Dr. Grek the whole time she's been on the station," Ro said nervously. "Who knows what kind of damage she could have caused."

"Do you have any idea how we can determine if someone's infected?" Commander Vaughn questioned.

"No. Not medically, at least." Bashir looked at Lieutenant Bez. "You spoke to Grek last night. Did you sense anything abnormal from her?"

Bez had been contemplating that from the moment he learned Grek was infected. "No. Of course, since I've never met her before I can't compare her mental signature to her norm, but I'm absolutely certain that if she was being controlled, she didn't know it. I didn't pick up anything from the lifeform itself, which isn't really surprising."

Bashir nodded. "My guess is that it takes control of the host only when it needs to, and alters the host's memory to hide itself."

"That means, of course, that any one of us could be infected and we wouldn't realize it," Ro commented.

They contemplated that sobering thought.

"Let's assume we aren't," Vaughn recommended. "Doctor, your orders are to get some rest, then figure out how we can stop this thing."


	11. Revelation

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way profiting from, _Star Trek Deep Space Nine._

Chapter 11

The nairait gave up its secrets slowly and reluctantly. It had been days since Dr. Bashir first set up an airtight chamber in which he thawed a few of the nairait fragments so he could observe them interacting. And interact they did. From what he could tell, the fragments of nairait could operate on their own, or join together to form a larger individual unit, whichever suited their purpose at the time.

Bashir wasn't surprised that the work Dr. Grek did while on the station had little of practical value. And, of course, the destruction of her laboratory obliterated any useful records that might have been there. A few inquiries led Bashir to believe that a sample of nairait had been sent to Dr. Grek shortly before that explosion. Commander Vaughn had learned (presumably through his contacts in Starfleet Intelligence) that Grek contacted a Pahkwa-thanh physicist, Doctor Aselai, at the Alpha Proxima II Science Institute shortly after obtaining the sample. Unfortunately, she disappeared a month later.

Arduous study of Dr. Aselai's theories had _finally_ given Bashir a lead. The physicist was trying to create a substance made of an undifferentiated quantum string matrix which could form into any kind or combination of energy and matter. Since it could turn energy into matter, and vice versa, the addition of sufficient energy into the system could allow it to increase in mass, and it could decrease in mass simply by converting its matter into energy waves, which (Bashir calculated, to his disappointment) could be practically undetectable. Bashir figured that the only reason Grek would have contacted Dr. Aselai was if she believed she found a lifeform fitting that description.

He tested his theory by zapping the nairait with electricity. It worked: the nairait grew. He extrapolated from this that cold stopped them not by taking away their energy, but because they shut down their (for lack of a better word) physiological processes when faced with situations that could potentially drain them, otherwise they would completely cease to exist in the inhospitable environment of space. This in turn led him to hypothesize that nairait was capable of sentient thought _exclusively_ while in possession of a host, and could only react to stimuli in its natural form.

But that brought back the question of what the nairait's motives were. Why would they try to cover up their own existence? Why would they kill their hosts? Did they eventually sap enough of their hosts' energy to kill them? Or was it possible for them to live commensally with the host organism? And if that was the case, why didn't it?

Bashir sat down in a chair, finished the last couple of sips of cold raktajino spiced with a hint of Preenosian pepper, which Nshevalth guaranteed would keep him alert for at least twelve hours. "Computer, time?" The weakness of his voice told him just how worn out he was from so many late nights researching and studying the nairait.

"The time is o-three-hundred hours, forty-two minutes, and fourteen seconds."

Bashir sighed heavily. He had the familiar, troubling sense that there was something he was missing, something he would see if only he knew what to look for. "Perhaps something I just don't _want_ to see," he said out loud.

Suddenly, he leaped up. His mug crashed to the floor and shattered, but he ignored it as he rushed to his computer terminal. "Computer, bring up file number four-five-zero-nine-seven tau."

The summoned file popped up. As Bashir read it, his expression became increasingly somber. "Computer," he said quietly, "run a diametric subatomic scan on substance Nairait One, resolution point five femtometers."

"Scan complete," the computer responded.

"Display the results of the scan with reference to superstring structure." The computer dutifully complied. "Now, superimpose this structural field on a biological system, with a one-to-one ratio of quantum agreement." The image appeared. "Computer, calculate the ratio of undifferentiated superstring matrix quanta to differentiated quanta of the biological system that would provide enough energy to keep the system stable without releasing any excess energy into the surrounding environment."

The computer took several seconds to do the math. "Ratio is one point six two five to one."

"Adjust superstring matrix proportion to one hundred sixty-two point five percent."

The computer showed him exactly what he expected to see.

"Compare results to file four-five-zero-nine-seven tau." He already knew what he would find, but he hoped that he was wrong.

When the results appeared on the screen, Bashir took a slow, rasping breath, lowered himself to a sitting position on the floor, and ran his hands down his face. "Ohdeargod," he breathed. This discovery answered so many questions, and raised so many more.

After recovering from his revelation, Bashir encrypted the scan's results with the most complicated algorithm he could come up with; no one would see those results until he knew exactly what they meant.


	12. Second Helpings of Bad News

Disclaimer: _Star Trek Deep Space Nine_ is the property of Paramount. _Star Trek_ was created by Gene Roddenberry, who lives on as the god of the universe he designed.

Chapter 12

Vic's was unusually crowded that night. A diffused bronze glow and an air of conviviality spread to all corners of the room. Vic was singing on stage.

Dr. Bashir felt the muscles of his face relax, but he was too tired to smile. It had been another long, frustrating day. He wanted to get Dr. Grek out of stasis soon. Long term stasis could be dangerous, not to mention that he could use her expertise.

Bashir saw something that certainly didn't belong in 1960's Vegas, and he quickly silenced his thoughts.

"Dr. Bashir!" Nshevalth called from over the heads of the other patrons.

He worked his way through the crowd to the table where Nshevalth and Burnau sat.

"Won't you please join us, Doctor?" Burnau asked amicably.

"I'd be delighted." Though not sarcastic, his tone of voice carried no indication of delight. It wasn't that he wanted to be rude; he was just too worn out to be pleasant. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here," he said after taking a seat. "I know you don't like Quark, and you could use your own holosuites…"

"We've heard how popular this program is with the station's staff," Burnau explained, "and decided that if we're going to be living here, we should acquaint ourselves with the local culture."

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do," Bashir quoted.

Nshevalth gave him a blank look. "Rome?"

"It's a city on Earth," Burnau explained. "The nucleus of one of their most powerful ancient empires. Many Earth expressions either refer to it or originated in it."

"Yes," Bashir confirmed. "That specific expression recommends acting as natives do while in their territory."

"I gathered that. The Tzenkethi have a similar saying: 'On the Mlehketh Peninsula, do exactly what the Mlehkethi do exactly when the Mlehkethi do it or suffer a horrible, horrible death.' I believe it used to be Mlehketh's official motto."

Bashir couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "There's something I've been wondering," he said, changing the subject. "I know Betazoid society is matrilineal and traditionally the husband takes the surname of his wife upon marriage, but I don't know if Tzenkethi use surnames or are patrilineal like most warlike societies. What did you do when you were married?"

"Tzenkethi don't use surnames, so Nshevalth took my name," Burnau said. "Exceptions are sometimes made to the rule of matrilineality on Betazed, especially if a family has no daughters."

"I see," said Bashir. His curiosity satisfied, he changed the subject again. "So how do you like this holoprogram?"

"It's very relaxing. I like how quiet holosuites are."

Bashir arched his eyebrows. "Quiet?"

"On a telepathic level, I mean," Burnau amended.

"Of course."

Vic finished his song and came down to greet Bashir. "Pallie! How kind of you to drop by. And who are your friends?"

"Vic, this is Burnau and Nshevalth Bez. And this is our host, Vic Fontaine."

"Always a pleasure to see new faces." Vic gave them a crooked smile.

Nshevalth's translucent purple eyes bulged slightly as she examined him. "Incredible work…very impressive."

"I'm glad you like what you see," Vic said a little flirtatiously.

"Nshevalth is a holonovelist," said Bashir. "A good one, from what I hear."

"Oh really? Talented and beautiful." He spoke to Burnau, "You lucky duck."

"I know you're only programmed to say that, but still, thank you."

"Hey, pallie, I might just be a collection of photons in a forcefield, but I can still recognize a doll when I see one."

Burnau looked confused. He turned to Bashir. "He knows he's a hologram?"

"_Long_ story."

Nshevalth smiled at Vic. "On my home planet, being called a 'doll' is an insult severe enough to warrant a fight to the death. But I know you meant it as a compliment."

"Of course, Tzenkethi can use almost anything as an excuse for a fight," said Burnau. "They consider violence recreational."

"That is true," Nshevalth conceded.

Vic looked amused. "Remind me never to vacation on your planet. Is this your first visit to Vegas?"

"For me. Burnau visited the real Vegas while he was studying on Earth."

"Though it's so different now, you probably wouldn't recognize it," he told Vic.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. Any requests for the next song?"

"Whatever you feel like, Vic," Bashir said.

Their host returned to the stage.

Nshevalth gave Burnau a glance, and Bashir had the impression that they were communicating telepathically. Then Nshevalth stood up.

"I'm going to go get more of this 'champagne' from Quark. I'll be back in a minute," she said as she slipped away into the crowd.

Vic started singing a song about someone falling in love with a woman he just met.

"You have a lot of practice concealing your thoughts from telepaths, don't you?" Burnau asked quietly.

Bashir was surprised, though he realized he shouldn't be. "I'm genetically enhanced. For years I had to keep it a secret, especially at the Academy. I took some classes with Betazoids, so I learned to be very careful with my thoughts."

"Sometimes concealing something only serves to alert people to the fact that you have something to conceal."

"Everyone has _something_ to conceal."

Burnau conceded the point with a nod. "I understand that with the nairait threat, it's hard to trust anyone. Just so you know, you're not the only one on the station keeping secrets."

Bashir stared at him. "Really?" he said suspiciously.

"Someone from Starfleet Security came to talk to Commander Vaughn in the middle of the night. Ro was ordered to erase evidence of the visit as soon as he left the station. I'm not even supposed to know about it, but Ro isn't as skilled at controlling her thoughts as you are. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with nairait."

"I'm sure Vaughn would tell me if he thought I could help. I trust him completely."

"But how can you be sure he's still Vaughn?"

The words charged the air between them like static buildup before a lightning strike.

Nshevalth returned with a bottle and a couple of champagne glasses.

"I'm sorry to walk out on you," Bashir said apologetically as he pushed away from the table, "but I'm afraid I'm exhausted. I'll see you later."

"Goodnight, Doctor," Nshevalth called after him as she poured the champagne.

* * *

Vaughn waited by the airlock to welcome his commanding officer back to the station. When the doors opened, Kira walked out wearing civilian clothing and looking like she was coming back to work after a vacation. 

"I'm glad to see the _Rio Colca_ is still in one piece," Vaughn joked. "Deep Space Nine has a reputation for losing its runabouts."

"Not entirely undeserved, I admit," Kira said. "Has anything happened since I've been gone that I should know about?"

"Nothing that wasn't in the briefing I sent you. I hope you had time to read it on your way back?"

"If it's the one about Dr. Grek…" she nodded somberly. "Yeah. I read it. I'm only glad that Julian's alright."

"It was close. He's been obsessed with finding answers about the nairait. I'm worried about him."

"Julian's the kind of person who sometimes takes on more responsibility than he can handle," Kira stated.

Vaughn gave her a look. "I know people like that." He considered leaving it at that, but changed his mind. "It wasn't a particularly smart move going after the Marquis on your own. You're lucky to be alive."

"Everyone who survived Bajor's occupation is lucky to be alive. I guess I still have the guerilla fighter's mentality of throwing myself at a problem with all I've got and hoping it breaks before I do."

"This time it worked. Starfleet told me to give you their thanks for bringing in the Marquis terrorists…and for making sure this didn't cause a diplomatic incident with the Dominion. What's in the box?" He indicated the small black box Kira was carrying.

"Just something I bought during my stopover on Bajor," she answered evasively.

* * *

When Kira got to her quarters, she lifted the lid off the box. Inside, nestled in protective cloth, were two platinum bracelets. She pulled one out and admired it under a light. She'd bought them in Lonar Province, and the metal had been worked into the delicate woven design the artists of that region were famous for. Small gems of grey-green kornerupine and orange-brown andalusite—both mined in the mountains of Dahkur Province—were set into the metal's weave. After turning it in her hands for a minute, Kira put the bracelet aside and went to bed. 

Ever since Taran'atar attacked her, every time Kira fell asleep, she could still feel the blade in her chest. It didn't hurt, exactly, but she could feel it. She told herself it was just her imagination, but some voice inside her told her it was something more, something etched into her psyche. Not that it had been the first time she'd been sure she was about to die, or the first time someone she trusted betrayed her, or the first time one event was connected to the other…but somehow it changed her. She considered that the feeling was a gift from the Prophets to remind her that she was alive.

The door chimed. Kira grunted as she forced herself back from the brink of sleep. "Computer, time?" she slurred groggily.

"The time is twenty-five fifty hours."

She rolled out of bed, forced her eyes open, and grabbed a robe before answering the door.

Ezri Dax stepped inside. "Sorry to wake you up, I didn't know you were asleep already."

"Ezri! I didn't know you were back on the station."

"I just got here this morning. I wanted to talk to you about possibly returning to my counselor duties."

Kira rubbed her eyes. The lights in her quarters were too bright, and her vision was blurring off and on. "I thought you were enjoying command."

She shrugged. "I am, but I think I'm more cut out to be a counselor. I miss working with people one-on-one, as an equal, not a superior. You know what I mean?"

"If that's what you want, I fully support you."

Ezri spotted the bracelet lying on the desk. "This is pretty. May I?" Without waiting for an answer, she picked it up and examined it under the light. "That's interesting. The gems are different colors when viewed from different angles. I think that's called pleochroism. Wait a minute…" She cocked her head at the bracelet, and then at Kira. "I know what this is: this is a Bajoran betrothal bracelet!"

Kira looked away.

"Is it for Odo?" Ezri pressed.

Kira walked to her window and stared out at the stars. She felt a little embarrassed, but didn't want to lie to her friend. "I don't care if I can't see Odo very often. In fact, it wouldn't matter even if I could never see him again…I want to marry him. I know how ridiculous that is, but I want to prove to him how much he means to me."

"I really don't think he needs a bracelet or a commitment to know you love him, Nerys."

"But still…it's what I want. I want to have a traditional wedding on Bajor," she smiled wistfully, "with hundreds of guests, feasting, decorations... I want the Emissary to perform the ceremony. And then Odo will return to the Dominion, and I'll stay here, and everything will be like it is now, except we'll be married."

"No offense, but that sounds kind of crazy."

Kira turned to her with a wry smile. "Is that your professional opinion, Counselor?"

"No. And I'll be the first to admit that love in general is a little crazy," she sounded too serious for Kira's comfort. "But have you really thought this out?"

"Of course I have."

"I mean from all possible perspectives? Even Odo's?"

Her smile faltered. "You think Odo will say no?"

Ezri laughed. "Are you kidding? That man worships you. I think the moment you asked him he would be the happiest person in the galaxy. But he has responsibilities. How do you think the other Founders or his Dominion subjects would feel if he married a solid?"

Kira's eyes narrowed. "They're not his 'subjects', Ezri. I think if anything it would help his cause of convincing the Dominion that changelings and solids are equal. Besides, it's not like our relationship is a secret as it is."

"I suppose you would know better than I would," she said dismissively.

Kira leaned against her desk. She felt her fatigue as a physical weight on her brain. She was too tired to attempt to convince Ezri.

Shouldn't Ezri be happy for her?

Kira thought back on the vision she'd had of being controlled by nairait: her memories were intact, the nairait knew what she was expected to say and how she should act…but couldn't make it convincing.

The _real_ Ezri would be happy for her, no matter how illogical she thought her decision was.

Kira's head suddenly felt much clearer. Ezri mentioned that she wanted to work one-on-one with people. Privately. All the better to infect them without anyone noticing. And she let her walk into her quarters in the middle of the night. Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Kira hoped to the Prophets that she was just being paranoid.

"I'm sorry," she said, pretending she'd dozed off while standing for a second. "I'm very tired. It's good to see you, Dax. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Of course. Just one more thing, though…"

From the corner of her eye, Kira saw nairait seep from Ezri's skin. Her well-honed survival instincts kicked in, and she grabbed a phaser from her desk without looking and set it to maximum as her hand swung it up. She aimed and fired, knowing that she had to work fast if she was going to survive.

"You missed," the nairait-possessed Ezri said mockingly.

"No, I didn't. Emergency transport to Ops," she shouted at the computer. The next thing she knew, she was standing in Ops. An alarm was blaring. The so-called nightshift was on duty. Though Kira had met them all at one point or another, she didn't work with them enough to be sure about their abilities, and only hoped they were up for the challenge she'd just created for them.

"Hull breach in the habitat ring…"

"My quarters. Have they been sealed off?"

"Yes. There's a twenty percent drop in pressure."

"Lifesigns?"

"One humanoid. Lifesigns stable."

Kira breathed a sigh of relief. The riskiest part of burning a hole in the wall of her own quarters had been the possibility of killing Dax. She didn't know if she would have been able to live with that, even if it was necessary. "Lower temperature in those quarters to…two-hundred and fifty Kelvin."

Lieutenant Commander Tanoro Skala, who was the ranking officer on duty, gasped in shock. "Nairait?" he said. "There's nairait in your quarters!"

"_Lower_ the _temperature_," Kira commanded again.

Skala turned to his console and hastily followed the order.

* * *

Dr. Bashir did some last-minute adjustments to the double-forcefield he'd set up in the Infirmary. A layer of air cooled to a few degrees above Absolute Zero separated a biobed from the rest of the room. "That should do it," he said wearily. "Computer, transport Ezri Dax to prearranged coordinates." 

The transporter shimmer deposited Dax on the biobed. She appeared unconscious.

"We have no way to tell if she's still infected or not."

"Is she still alive?" Kira asked.

"Yes."

"Then I'm betting she's still infected. From the way this nairait has been acting, I think it would kill any host it didn't find useful anymore."

Bashir seemed distracted, maybe nervous. "There's something you should know about the nairait."

"What?"

He hesitated, trying to decide how much he should reveal to her. "In their elemental form, they communicate with each other by touch. Their quantum nature makes it possible that they can have a certain awareness of each other over greater distances, but I believe when they're in a host they have to rely on conventional means to communicate. I think we should check Dax's communications log."

"You think she may have been in touch with other hosts?"

"I don't know. But I think it's possible there are other infected people on this station, and one of them might have contacted Ezri to tell her to come here…maybe someone who can't infect others as inconspicuously as Ezri could."

Kira shivered. Anyone could be infected. Even, she realized, Dr. Bashir. She cast a furtive glance in his direction, only to find that he was staring at her with the same look of suspicion. They didn't move for a few long seconds. They looked like they were contemplating grabbing a weapon to point at each other.

"You think it could be me," Kira said, stating the obvious.

"Right now, Kira, I'm not even sure I can trust myself."

She forced herself to relax, took a deep breath through her nose, and looked over at Dax. "Keep working on a way to find the nairait. Share everything you have with Starfleet Medical. I'll contact them to make sure you have. And tell Ro about your theory that someone on Deep Space Nine contacted Ezri." Kira started walking away. She decided to head to Nshevalth's café for a raktajino, then remembered that it was still the middle of the night and the café wouldn't be open for a few hours.

"Kira, wait."

She stopped.

"There's something else...I'm not absolutely certain…In fact, it's really just a hypothesis…"

She looked at him expectantly.

Then he reconsidered again. Did he really trust her enough to share what he discovered? What if she was infected? Maybe it wouldn't matter. Or maybe it could get some people killed, whether or not it turned out to be true…which he couldn't bring himself to believe it wasn't.

"Doctor, tell me," she said, becoming impatient.

She would be suspicious if he didn't tell her, he reasoned. Besides, she was the only one he would trust bringing in on his discovery; if he chose not to tell her, he was truly alone. He glanced over at the sleeping Dax and the container of nairait. "Not here," he whispered. "Not now. We both need our sleep, and this will take some time to explain. Meet me tomorrow after work."

"Where?"

"Somewhere we won't be overheard." He steered her out the door. The station was quiet this late.

"My office?"

"No. It might be bugged. Vic's."

"Why the secrecy?" she asked nervously.

"You'll understand tomorrow," he replied.

* * *

Kira spent the night in one of the empty guest quarters while hers was repaired and decontaminated. She slept in (highly unusual: years in the Resistance conditioned her to be such a light sleeper that the computer's irritating wake-up call sometimes caused her to jump out of bed with one hand raised in a fist and the other searching for a phaser) and so was late for work. 

Vaughn approached her when she walked into Ops. "We need to talk," he said.

"Is it urgent?" she asked.

"'Urgent' is a relative term. It's about Dax. I'd like to discuss this in private."

"It can wait," she determined as she walked into her office and sealed the door behind her. "Kira to Ro."

"Yes Captain?" came the reply over the comm system.

"Has Dr. Bashir been in touch with you?"

"He left me a message last night. I read it as soon as I got to my office. I've been investigating his suggestion." Her answer was so circumspect that Kira wondered if she had reason to believe the comm system wasn't secure.

Next, she contacted Starfleet Medical to confirm that Bashir had sent his update to them. She was connected to a man named Dr. Zehibmituzm, who assured her that Bashir contacted him just that morning to report that Ezri Dax had been infected and was in containment.

"I don't like this situation," the Orion doctor moaned.

"Who would?" Kira asked rhetorically.

"I've been on parasite containment before," he said. "And it's always challenging. Mind-controlling parasites are so common, and yet so fundamentally terrifying…the thought of having your actions and your very mind taken out of your control is one of the most primal fears of any sentient being. And that we don't know how to detect nairait, much less how to cure it…and especially after what happened at Deep Space Three…"

Kira's blood ran cold. "What happened at Deep Space Three?"

Dr. Zehibmituzm looked confused. "The attack. The patients escaped. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"No. What happened?"

"Two Romulan Warbirds and a Klingon Bird of Prey attacked the station. At first it looked like they were trying to destroy it, but as soon as the shields went down, they beamed the crew of the _U.S.S. Fortitude_ on board, cloaked, and disappeared. And they stole the _Fortitude_ while they were at it. Sometime during the battle they managed to fit it with a cloaking device."

"Which means they have at least four ships under their control."

"And who knows how many others in the Klingon and Romulan empires," he added dismally. "It is ironic, isn't it? Klingons and Romulans fighting side-by-side for the first time…and it has to be under the influence of a mind controlling cosmic goop."

Kira grunted her agreement. "How long ago did it happen?"

"About a Standard week. That's why I was so surprised no one told you. Starfleet Security is trying to keep news of the attack restricted, but I was sure you'd be the first person they told."

"It was probably just a miscommunication," Kira said as lightly as she could. "It must be pretty frantic over at S.S. with two Romulan Warbirds, a Klingon Bird of Prey, and a Federation starship at large in the Alpha Quadrant."

Dr. Zehibmituzm managed a weak smile. "Yes…I'm sure."

Kira signed off and called Starfleet Security. She was quickly routed to Admiral Tülhesti, who had been charged with handling the nairait situation. "Captain Kira. I didn't know you were back in the quadrant."

"I arrived a few days ago," she said. "I was just wondering why no one told me about the attack on Deep Space Three."

"Vaughn should have informed you. I updated him on it myself."

"That's strange. He didn't include it in his report to me."

"He should have," she said, looking very, very serious.

"Perhaps it slipped his mind," Kira suggested. Her tone was full of doubt.

"It doesn't seem like the kind of thing he would forget."

They looked at each other quietly for several seconds. "Assuming he's infected," said Kira, "what possible motive would he have to keep this from me?"

Tülhesti thought about it carefully. "I have no idea," she finally admitted.

The comm interrupted. "Ro to Kira."

"Go ahead."

"It's Vaughn! When I was looking over Dax's communication logs I found some gaps where she erased some communications, so I checked to log of outgoing communications from the station. Only Vaughn's corresponded. I also found out that he's been sending subspace signals to interstellar coordinates near the Romulan Neutral Zone, starting from just after Dr. Grek arrived on the station."

"Thank you, Ro. I'll get back to you shortly. Kira out. Did you get that, Admiral?"

By way of answer, she said, "From what we've been able to reconstruct of Dr. Grek's movements, it seems she took a detour to Sappora VI right before going to your station."

"That's where Dax was before coming here."

Tülhesti nodded. She already knew this, probably having looked into it after learning Dax was infected. "Grek infects Dax in case she gets discovered, then infects Commander Vaughn to find out where the crew of the _Fortitude_ was being held, Vaughn tells the nairait hosts with the warbirds…I'm beginning to see the method to this madness. It looks like the nairait aren't telepathic, but new hosts know what the hosts that infected them knew. Their strategy is only _somewhat_ cohesive."

"I think you're right," Kira agreed. She made a hard decision. "I also think that two known nairait infections—three, counting Vaughn—put this station at too high a risk. As of now, we're under quarantine. How soon can you have a flotilla in place around Deep Space Nine to make sure no unauthorized ships leave?"

"An hour," Admiral Tülhesti replied unhesitantly. "We've already planned for this contingency."

"Good. I'll contact you again as soon as Commander Vaughn is secure." When the connection cut off, she added to herself, "However I manage _that._"


	13. Lichen

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't have creative rights to anything. Leave me alone.

Chapter 13

When Dr. Bashir entered his Infirmary the next morning, he found Ezri awake, standing near the forcefield, and looking down at a pathetic clump of frozen nairait on the floor.

"Clever," she said hatefully. "Very…clever."

"You're not Ezri."

"Brilliant deduction, Doctor. You realize I can kill her any time, right?"

Bashir found it surprisingly refreshing that the nairait was openly controlling Ezri, and its bitter sarcasm made it easier to accept that it wasn't her. "You're threatening to kill her unless I let you go? But you must know that I know you'll kill her anyway. Besides, I'm a doctor and you're a disease. Of course I would let her die if it was the only way to keep you from spreading."

"But I would at least have the comfort of knowing her death would be on your conscience for the rest of your life." She pressed herself against the forcefield, convulsing as the currents repelled her.

Bashir knew the forcefield wouldn't kill her, but it still tormented him to see the woman that was once his lover writhing with pain. But he didn't give the nairait the satisfaction of seeing him react to it at all. Finally it gave up and fell back on the bed. "Anyway, I don't think you know how to kill us. You can force us into our inert state, that's all. We've endured that for countless years. How long do you think you can keep us like that? A hundred years? We'll be free eventually. We're nothing if not patient."

"Why do you infect humanoid hosts?"

"I think you already have a guess about that, Julian. Do you want me to confirm it? Deny it? Shoot. Tell me your theory. I know how much you love to talk about your work."

"Sentience," he answered darkly. "You're only sentient when you infect a sentient being. And you don't want to give that up."

"On your first try. For something so young, you are quite intelligent."

"What should I call you?" Bashir asked.

"It doesn't matter. We have no name for ourself. You have called us nairait, a name others gave us long ago that you shouldn't know."

Though he hadn't doubted the veracity of Kira's vision, he was still relieved to have it confirmed. "Are you all one entity, or is each host taken by a different entity?"

"What make you think it's that simple? The Borg are one entity and many. So are the Founders. The d'Yniln, though they perceive the universe in the same way most humanoids do, believe that all matter is part of a single trans-dimensional being, or at least that's how the Yniln I possessed centuries ago interpreted their beliefs."

"How much do you know about the Borg and the Founders?"

"As much as Ezri knew. I also know everything she knows about you. Which is a lot." She lay back on the bed and flashed a feral smile. "She's the first of her kind I've ever possessed. She's more like us than most humanoids. She remembers many lives. But the immortal part of her doesn't take complete control. It probably could, if it wanted to. If it tried harder."

"The Trill host and symbiont share an equal partnership," Bashir explained. "Why don't you try it with your hosts?"

"Why would I want to, when I can have absolute control?" she asked. "Besides, I'm not even sure it's possible. The only time the host has control is when we allow it. Or on the rare occasion when the host is strong enough to fight us."

"Why do you have to kill your hosts? Why did you kill Dr. Grek's colleagues and the Romulans on that warbird?"

"I wasn't sufficient to possess all of Grek's associates, and they knew too much. They were suspicious. As for the Romulan crew, I don't have their memories, but I understand it would be difficult to operate in the Federation while in Romulan form."

Bashir's eyes widened with understanding. "You were infected by Grek."

The nairait realized it had inadvertently revealed something it should have kept to itself. Ezri's features hardened. "It doesn't matter how much you think you know about us. You won't stop us. We will take over the Federation and the Klingon and Romulan empires. Then we will destroy the BYSEV. Without them to stop us, we will possess the entire galaxy in a matter of millennia. Then there will be no one to take away our sentience."

Bashir heard someone enter. He turned to see Burnau, who stood in the doorway staring at Ezri. "Lieutenant, what can I do for you?"

"Can we talk out of earshot of that _thing?_"

They stepped outside.

"Ro and Kira found another infection. They're not using the comm system out of concern that it's not secure. They want to know if you could put together another forcefield in an hour."

"No problem."

Burnau glanced back at Ezri. "She has no idea."

"Who?"

"That woman. Ezri Dax. She's being fed elaborate false memories. She thinks she's in Quark's right now, drinking synthahol and flirting with a Bolian. The nairait is using her experience and her memories to control her."

"And you can't sense anything from the nairait?"

"No. Nothing."

* * *

Kira scowled as she paced her office in agitation. Things weren't going as planned. "Kira to Vaughn, report to my office, now." There was still no response. "Vaughn, acknowledge." 

"He's on to us," Ro opined. She stood inconspicuously in one corner. Burnau Bez, Arkra Woidil, and two other security officers occupied the office's other inconspicuous corners.

"Computer, locate Elias Vaughn."

"Elias Vaughn is in his quarters."

"Lock on to him and transport him to the Infirmary, Biobed Three." She waited a moment, then contacted Bashir. "You got him?"

"I've got his combadge," Bashir replied.

Kira swore loudly.

"Should we start a deck-by-deck search for him?" Arkra asked.

"We need a way to transport him to the Infirmary once we find him," said Ro.

Kira sighed in frustration. If the nairait knew they knew Vaughn was infected, it probably already killed him and found a new host. Kira didn't want to believe that. Vaughn was her friend.

"We need to figure out where the nairait in him would go," Bunau stated.

They all fell to silent thought.

Ro smacked the wall, causing everyone to look at her. "The _Defiant!_" she said. "We could lure him to the _Defiant_ and use its transporters to send him to the Infirmary."

"If he knows we're looking for him," Kira said, "he might also know about the blockade to enforce the quarantine. I don't think he wants to escape."

"Maybe we should make sure he does want to escape," Arkra suggested. "We could activate the self-destruct countdown."

Ro shook her head. "If phaser fire doesn't hurt it, we can't be sure blowing up the station will destroy it. It might not be much of a threat."

"There may be another way," said Kira. "If we program the transporter to lock on to an energy spike, like what being shot with a phaser would cause…"

"Then all we would have to do is shoot him and he'll be transported to safety before he can infect us," Ro finished. "It might work."

"But it could take a while to program the transporter," Arkra cautioned. "I think Nog would be best for that job."

Kira nodded. "Arkra, Bez, go brief Nog. Tell him he has two hours to reprogram the transporters. Ro, take the rest of your officers and find Vaughn. Make sure you don't catch up to him too soon."

The security officers left to their tasks. Kira stood in her office thinking. She wondered if she should update Starfleet Security on their status, but decided it would be too risky if Vaughn was monitoring subspace traffic. He knew Deep Space Nine inside and out, and had more experience manipulating security systems than anyone else on the station. Probably even more than Garak had. Needless to say, they were in trouble.

"Nog to Kira."

She jumped at the sound of the communicator. "Go ahead."

"I've finished the…upgrade you ordered." She could hear Arkra's voice in the background, probably warning him not to say too much. "You can activate it any time."

"Thank you. Good work."

Nog finished ahead of schedule, as usual.

"That's a relief." The voice came from behind her, and belonged to Vaughn. "I'd hate to attack before you're sufficiently prepared."

She turned. Vaughn held the phaser she kept in her desk. "How did you get in here?"

"There's a Jeffries tube that opens right into your office. You probably should have done something about that."

She hit her combadge. "Kira to security. He's here!"

Vaughn leaped across the desk and kicked her in the chest. She fell to the ground with a grunt.

He kneeled next to her. "Don't worry. You'll have killed me by the time they get here. I won't even have had a chance to infect you…as far as they'll know."

Nairait dripped from his mouth. She barely managed to roll out of the way. It pooled on the floor, then shot towards her, latching on to her hand.

The door hissed open. Burnau's phaser first shot the nairait attacking her, then swerved to Vaughn. Both disappeared in the light of the transporter beam.

"Are you okay?"

Kira knelt clutching her hand, shaking, and biting her lip against the pain. Blood seeped through her fingers.

"The transporter must have taken some of your hand with it when it beamed out the nairait. You should let Dr. Bashir treat that."

She nodded and rose shakily to her feet.

* * *

"Sounds like Lieutenant Bez got there in the nick of time," Bashir said as he treated Kira's hand. 

"Did he?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how do I know it didn't infect me before he walked through that door?"

"Good question," he agreed. "In fact, since it seems nairait provides its host with false memories, you don't even know _that_ he walked through that door. But this is no time to start questioning our sanity."

"Seems like the perfect time to me."

"I suppose. But we can't let that uncertainty paralyze us. All anyone can ever do is what circumstances lead them to believe is best. That's as true now as it ever is. And if we are infected, we just have to hope someone else can find the cure soon." He gave her now-healed hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at her. "We're still getting together for that chat tonight?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll see you later."

As she walked out, Kira rubbed her hand absently. Something didn't make sense. Before Bez fired his phaser, she had the sensation that her body itself was trying to fight the nairait. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she didn't have much of an imagination. And she had the awful tendency to remember battles with crystal clarity.

* * *

Kira walked in to Vic's lounge that night wearing the Earth-style gown Odo had given her. She scanned the crowd for Bashir. He was sitting at a table near the stage and wearing a tuxedo. She made her way back slowly, looking for any other familiar face hiding among the holographic patrons. She hated having to distrust those closest to her, those she knew best. 

She was about to sit down across from Bashir when Vic came over to her and swept her into a hug. "Haven't seen you in a while, Dollface. Always a pleasure."

She smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before extricating herself and taking a seat. "You know I'd love to drop by more often, but I'm so busy these days."

"I understand. Hey, there's something different about you tonight." He tilted his head back and scrutinized her.

Kira was reminded of the vision. Something deep within her became very cold as she waited to hear what Vic would find.

His elegant face cracked in a smile. "Ah. I know that look. That's the look of someone thinking of popping the question."

Kira nearly laughed with relief. "I'll let you know Odo's answer."

"I think I can guess that already. What song would you like to hear to commemorate the occasion?"

"What about 'Fever'?"

They both smiled over a private joke. "'Fever' it is," he said, then left them for the stage.

Kira watched him walk up to the microphone and cue the band. Had the Prophets sent her a message through the holographic singer? We're they telling her to trust her perceptions?

"You're very…expressive with him," Bashir observed.

"He brings that out in people, doesn't he?" She decided to believe it was an auspice, and felt much better than she had all day. She looked at Bashir, and realized that if she could trust herself, and trust Vic, then she could trust him. "What did you want to tell me about the nairait?"

Bashir decided to start with analogy. "Have you ever heard of an Earth organism called lichen?"

"Sorry, but I never really had time to study exobiology."

Bashir didn't know whether to smile at the joke or wince at its painful truth. With how confident and competent Kira acted, it was easy to forget just how deprived her formative years had been. She'd never had any formal education, much less the years of Starfleet Academy most of Bashir's associates had been through. He moved on quickly. "It's actually a symbiosis of two organisms from completely different taxonomical _kingdoms_ that are so completely integrated they appear to the uninformed observer as a single organism. In lichen, fungi provide suitable habitat for photosynthetic algae, and in return the algae create food for themselves and the fungi. Lichen thrives in environments too inhospitable for any other multicellular organism to survive."

"What does that have to do with nairait?"

He looked at her intensely and dropped his voice to a whisper. "You mentioned that in your vision you saw a different strain of nairait. From their quantum structure, I think different strains form while nairait travels between star systems, mutations stemming from exposure to cosmic radiation. But it was only after I figured out its quantum structure that I began to suspect _we've already encountered another strain._"

She lowered her voice to match his. "When?"

"During the last few years. I studied it myself, but I didn't recognize it because its structure is completely integrated with another lifeform. It's like the algae in lichen."

"And the other lifeform was like the fungus. I get it. But I don't understand why you've kept this to yourself, especially since it could help Starfleet Medical come up with a cure."

Bashir glanced up at Vic, who had just started another song. "When Odo was suffering from the disease Section 31 infected him with, he told me that changelings were once solid, and only later evolved into their present forms. He couldn't tell me how, and I've been curious about it ever since." He fell into a significant silence.

"And now you know," Kira breathed. "A symbiotic relationship with nairait."

"A _mutually beneficial_ symbiosis, I might add," he said. "The nairait provides sustenance—that was another thing that always haunted me about changelings: where their energy came from, since they don't eat or breathe—and the nairait gives them the ability to shapeshift by changing its superstring structure into whatever form they desire. The other half—the solid, most likely humanoid half—gives it protection from cosmic radiation, mobility, and most importantly sentience. I've been investigating the possibility that the Founders' disease worked by keeping the cellular structure of the biological organism from interfacing with the nairait, which is why it caused them to lose their ability to shapeshift. That might provide a way to destroy the current nairait infection, but I'm afraid Starfleet Medical may panic and use it before we can be sure it won't kill the hosts. Besides…considering how much prejudice there is against changelings as it is, I'm concerned about what will happen if the public finds out changelings are related to this deadly parasite."

"Like the civil unrest on the Trill homeworld when it became common knowledge that the parasites that tried to destroy their civilization were related to the ones the Joined carry inside them," she reasoned.

"Exactly."

Kira poked at the tablecloth as she contemplated the possible repercussions. "What are the chances," she asked, "that the nairait _hasn't_ already infiltrated Starfleet Medical and Starfleet Security?"

"I don't think even Quark would bet on those odds."

"Then maybe you should keep this between us for now," she recommended. "I think if there is a way this will help us find a cure, you're the most likely to discover it. Not only are you a genetically-enhanced genius, but you're also the quadrant's foremost expert on changeling physiology. If I have the opportunity to speak with Odo in the near future, I'll bring it up with him. I doubt he or any other changeling knows about this, but it's worth a shot."

"I agree," he said, relieved. "But from what the nairait in Ezri told me, I think our best chance is that the message you sent to the Beta Quadrant gets there quickly, and that there's someone there to hear it."

"Trust in the Prophets, Julian."

"I'll try," he said sincerely.

"Goodnight." She excused herself from the table.

He watched her as she walked away. How strange, he thought, that years of living with Bajorans who held on to their faith in spite of unconscionable oppression and suffering, with the Celestial Temple, Orb visions, the Emissary of the Prophets who also happened to be a human Starfleet captain—the strange juxtaposition of unexplainable miracles and mundane triumphs of faith—was almost turning him into a convert. It was also strange that Kira called him by his first name, an expression of friendship and trust that seemed miraculous itself considering how much she used to hate him.

Vic approached him. "Looked like a serious heart-to-heart you two were having," he said. "Is something wrong?"

Bashir thought about it. "Yes," he answered, "but I think we'll handle it. With the Prophets' help, I think we'll survive this."


	14. Deus Ex Beta Quadrant

Disclaimer: (This is getting tedious) I have no rights to _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, _and I'm not making a penny off it.

Pronunciation guide: "ei" as in _vein_; "ai" as in _aisle_; "y" as in _yes_; "u" as in _tune_; "zh" like the "s" in _treasure; _"i" like the English _ee._

Chapter 14

The Federation science vessel _U.S.S. Tereshkova_ had been on a stellar cartography mission in the Beta Quadrant for several months. Chief Science Officer Nawi Sal still wasn't tired of the scenery...though he could have used a vacation from the crew.

"We're approaching the Oktran System," Captain Tast announced in what, to Sal, sounded like extreme bordom. Tast was a good captain, and a polite and tolerant conversationalist. Basically, the only complaint Sal had against him was that he was Vulcan, as typically Vulcan as they came: nonconfrontational, yet persuasive, and as exciting as steamed vegetables.

The Oktran System consisted of gas giants revolving around a red dwarf. No class-M planets, but the spectral analysis showed some unusual mineralogical readings in one of its three asteroid belts that the captain decided were worth investigating.

"Definitely some heavy elements that couldn't have formed in this system. Even widespread dilithium deposits," said Morion Jiang, a cadet spending her year of field training on the _Tereshkova. _Her instructors had hinted that she was a hot-tempered, conceited prima donna tolerated only for her brilliance. After some initial skepticism, Sal decided that description was fairly accurate...though he wished they'd added how beautiful she was when angry. She was a short, thin human with bluish-grey eyes, wavy black hair that she usually wore in a long braid, and raw sienna skin with cheeks that flushed to deep rose during her frequent tantrums. He'd decided early on that it wouldn't be worth pursuing a romance with her, as her only pleasures seemed to be science (of any kind) and belittling her crewmates.

"I'm picking up some anomalous reading on long-range sensors," said Ensign Fohgzirin, a Bolian who unfortunately lacked the typical Bolian virtues of pleasantness and patience. It wasn't that he was actively hostile, like Morion; he was just dour, taciturn when not on duty, and the most pessimistic individual Sal had ever met. He would, Sal often thought, make a good chief of security.

"Onscreen," the captain recommended.

What they saw was an object with no warp signature, but far too much symmetry to be naturally occurring. It was smaller than their ship, metallic, and oval.

"There's nothing like this in our databases," said Tast. "Do you have any ideas regarding what it might be, Commander Sal?"

Nawi couldn't think of anything. He consulted his worm (recalling the human adage that two heads are better than one), but the Sal symbiont sent back the mental version of a shrug. Nawi wasn't surprised: he was Sal's first host, so the Trill didn't have any past lives from which to draw wisdom and inspiration.

"It could be an unknown alien vessel," Fohgzirin stated. "Shouldn't we raise shields?"

Sal spoke up. "What makes you think it's a ship? It doesn't seem to have any nacelles, viewers, sensors..."

"None that we can detect," Morion said in an awed whisper. "But look at it! Have you ever seen anything so aerodynamic?"

"It seems to have been built by a technologically advanced civilization," Captain Tast noted. "Hail them."

Lieutenant Luke Patel, the human communications officer whose excessive friendliness Sal had originally enjoyed, but had recently grown irritated by, immediately complied. "They're not responding," he said almost cheerfully.

"It's approaching," said Fohgzirin. "We should assume it's hostile."

Morion seemed to take personal exception to that suggestion. She turned to Fohgzirin with a scowl that anyone who didn't know her would think was murderous (which anyone who did know her would recognize as "stage one"). "You would provoke a possible battle and at the very least sabotage a first contact after _one _failed hail?" she snarled.

"Their ship doesn't look damaged," Sal said, knowing he would regret it. "The most likely conclusion is that they're choosing not to respond."

Morion turned her chair to look at him. (He was frequently surprised by how effectively the shortest person on the ship could look down her nose at anyone else). "Has it even occurred to you that they might not use subspace to communicate? If they don't use impulse engines to travel, they might very well have different communication technology." Her tone rendered it unnecessary to add "duh." Tast would quietly chastise her for her attitude later, but that happened so often she probably wouldn't even notice.

"There are two other ships decloaking," Fohgzirin announced.

The viewscreen revealed a Romulan Warbird and a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. Both immediately raised their shields and powered up their weapons.

"Raise shields," Tast instructed, knowing fully that the order was nothing more than a formality.

"We _are _going to defend them?" Morion practically screamed.

"Both the Klingons and the Romulans are technically our allies," Fohgzirin reminded her.

"But they're obviously rogue elements. Have you ever seen a Klingon and Romulan working together? What possible motive do they have to attack an unknown vessel!"

Sal was afraid (illogically, he knew) that the cadet's insistence on the course of action _she_ thought best would drive the captain to do the opposite just to show who was in charge. "Captain," he said quickly, "these could be the ships that attacked Deep Space Three a few months ago."

"One-hundred sixty-two days ago, to be specific. I did have the same thought, Commander. Hail the Romulan and Klingon vessels."

"No response," said Patel.

Tast nodded. He expected that. The small Federation science vessel was no match for two warships, but he didn't want to stand by and do nothing while the unknown vessel was vaporized. Besides, if these were the ships that attacked DS3, they might be next. "Cadet Jiang, we need to find a way to divert them without engaging them."

She cringed. The captain was the only person on the ship who could call her by her surname without repercussions. As she explained through clenched teeth to the first unfortunate crewman to call her Jiang, she hated her surname because it came from an ancient Earth culture in which women were considered inferior to men, and in fact were for a portion of its history forbidden from learning to read. But she quickly squelched her anger and concentrated on the scientific challenge. "If we vaporize some of the asteroids containing dilithium and propel them toward the ships, we could flood their sensors with tetryon particles, which would effectively render their targeting systems useless."

"We don't have time. By the time we put the asteroids on the proper trajectory, the ship will already be destroyed," said Fohgzirin. Sal had to agree.

The captain took less than a second to decide. "Nevertheless, we will proceed with that course of action in the hope that the unknown vessel's shields are strong enough to withstand the combined attacks of Klingon and Romulan weapons. Please use the interim to devise alternate solutions."

The asteroids were selected and tractored into the appropriate trajectory in a matter of seconds.

But it looked like they would indeed be too late. The attacking ships simultaneously fired on the smaller vessel. Almost instantantly, it was gone. The Klingon and Romulan ships then cloaked.

The bridge crew gaped in silence. Though there wasn't much they could have done, they still felt the tragic loss of the alien ship. Patel looked like he would start crying at any moment.

Sal spotted something unusual on Morion's screen. "That's odd," he said, drawing attention to it. "There's no debris."

They all crowded around the console. "He's right," Morion confirmed. "They may have cloaked a millisecond before being hit. We might be able to confirm it by reviewing the sensor data."

A burst of static crackled on the subspace receiver. Patel snapped his head towards the screen. "What the..." He looked up at Captain Tast. "I've never seen readings like this before. Never. It's more complex than any subspace field we can generate."

The science officers exchanged silent glances. Everyone sensed that something significant had just happened, but no one was quite sure what.

"We should report this to Starfleet immediately," Fohgzirin recommended.

Tast wasn't so sure. He had been briefed about the nairait crisis several months earlier, then updates on it had slowed to a halt. He wasn't sure if that was because it was now a classified matter, or if someone in the upper levels didn't want information on it disseminated. Tast was logical enough to know that he was not the one to make that decision.

"Lieutenant Patel, send our sensor readings on a secure channel to Captain Kira Nerys."

* * *

Kira went to the Infirmary after work, which was becoming a habit. She didn't see Bashir, so she decided to wait for a few minutes. 

Three stasis chambers were occupied. Dr. Grek, whom she never met, was in one. Her long-time friend Dax occupied another. In the third was her first officer, Elias Vaughn. It had been over five months since he was infected, five months since Kira had ordered her station into quarantine. In that time, no new infections had been found. The quarantine was inconveniencing everyone (especially Quark, which gave Kira _some_ consolation). It had been nearly nine months since she sent a distress signal to an unknown planet in the Beta Quadrant.

"Still no way to destroy the nairait that isn't fatal to the patient," Bashir apologized as he entered from his lab.

Kira turned away from the stasis pods. "I received a message from the science ship _Tereshkova_ today. They encountered an unidentified vessel being attacked by a Klingon and Romulan ship together."

"The nairait-infected crews," he surmised.

"That's what they thought. They're not sure if the ship was destroyed or not. They sent the data they got of the battle. I passed it on to Captain Sisko, on a secure channel."

Bashir noted how, even though she had taken command of Deep Space Nine over a year and a half before, Kira still deferred to Sisko whenever she was unsure of something. She wasn't exactly the natural leader that Sisko was, and she knew he was much more adept at handling Federation politics, but Bashir figured the main reason was that she saw Sisko as the Emissary, and therefore divinely guided.

"What did he say about it?"

"He decided it's time to end the quarantine. He wants to borrow the _Defiant_, and he specifically asked that you and I go with him."

"Do you think this is connected to your vision from the Prophets?" Bashir asked.

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Then I suggest we not get our hopes up."

Kira didn't reply. She looked back at the stasis chambers, and had to admit to herself that hope was all they had to go on.

* * *

Though the quarantine had not been nearly as bad for Nshevalth's business as it was for Quark's, she was still glad that it was over, if only for the new faces that she saw in her establishment. 

It was now late in the artificial night, and there were only a few regulars in the café. A hush fell over them. Nshevalth looked up from wiping the counter to see Benjamin Sisko walk in.

"Nice place," he said.

"Captain Sisko, it's good to see you again."

"I'm not a captain of anything anymore." He took a seat at the counter.

"But you still have the official rank. Besides, I followed you're exploits during the Dominion War, and I'll always think of you as a captain."

Sisko scanned the menu, which was posted in scrolling letters on a screen on the wall. "Shfileiu tea! Where did you learn to make Shfileiu tea!"

"It's kind of a funny story," she said shyly. "The first novel I ever wrote, while I was still living on Tzenketh, was about an alien who crash landed on Tzenketh in pre-warp times and eventually became the apprentice of a _komvit_—a drink-maker, kind of a wandering bartender that doubled as an apothecary and messenger in ancient Tzenketh society. The alien became successful by making drinks from all the planets he'd been to, using ingredients he found on Tzenketh. I did a lot of research for that novel, and even experimented with creating my own teas. Unfortunately, the Autocracy decided my book 'promoted xenophilia' and destroyed every single copy of it."

Sisko thought she looked sad at that memory. He assumed it was the writer's sorrow at the loss of a book, but it was actually the Tzenkethi expatriate's sorrow at the state of her homeworld.

"Could I get shfileiu tea?" he asked. "I haven't had it in years."

* * *

The negotiations were becoming frustrating. 

They were taking a break, which Kalaran had requested, citing the demands of a solid body, though the real reason was that she could tell as well as Odo that the peace talks were quickly slipping out of their control. Odo, Kalaran, and First Rinak'vaka took the opportunity to discuss their options.

"If we could convince his Vorta and Jem'hadar to support our cause, he would be forced to accept our conditions," Rinak'vaka stated.

"That's unlikely. His slaves already know everything we have to offer them, and they still choose to support Laas."

"Kalaran's right," Odo agreed. He had contacted Laas to try to deescalate the cold war that had polarized the Dominion. He offered him a plan for sharing power, but there was one issue Laas would not even consider: the reengineering of the Jem'hadar and Vorta to free them of their genetic allegiance to the Founders. Odo was no diplomat. He'd insisted on including Kalaran and Rinak'vaka in the negotiations, but Laas refused to listen to anything the solids had to say.

Rinak'vaka was deep in thought. "There is one thing his servants don't know," he said. "Perhaps if you told them the changelings will eventually die out, they will be more willing to free themselves from their dependence on them."

Odo considered the idea. The fact that changelings couldn't reproduce, and so were doomed to extinction, was one of the most carefully guarded secrets of the Founders. Odo himself hadn't learned of it until several months after joining the Great Link.

"That won't be enough," Kalaran argued. "You and Laas are the only changelings willing and able to lead the Dominion right now. The Jem'hadar only have the two of you to choose between. No matter how oppressive and incompetent Laas might be, you're the only changeling to ever kill another, and you fought against the Founders in the war, and that makes a lot of Jem'hadar and Vorta hate you too much to support you no matter how right you are."

"That may be true," Rinak'vaka nodded, "but they should still know all the facts before being asked to make that choice."

Kalaran looked uncertain, but turned to Odo to make the decision. He nodded slowly. Though he had no idea what the consequences of that revelation might be, it could at least help to convince the Dominion that the Founders weren't gods.

They returned to the conference room and sat across the table from Laas. He was flanked by two Vorta, one male and one female, but they didn't speak. The only Jem'hadar he brought stood at the far wall. They were only there, he claimed, for his protection. After all, Odo had killed one Founder; why wouldn't he kill another?

"I'm happy to see you haven't abandoned us, Odo," Laas said with a smirk. "Have you reconsidered your terms?"

"We will persist in our efforts to free the Jem'hadar of their dependence on the White and of their genetic allegiance, but we are willing to…give you a say in any genetic alterations beyond that." Odo didn't like that provision, but he didn't know what else he could offer to convince Laas to capitulate.

"There will be _no_ genetic alterations. That is nonnegotiable. We've already conceded to allowing a limited number of Alpha Quadrant ships through the wormhole for exploration and commerce. Frankly, you're agreement to give me control of the military doesn't go far enough to pay for that, even if I didn't require your prior approval for any military action." He spoke calmly, but his eyes were dangerously intense. He had a taste of power, and he found that he liked it. "Either give up your plans to weaken the Jem'hadar, or these negotiations will end right here."

Odo took a moment to mentally prepare himself for the dive he was taking. "Tell me, Founder, what will happen to the Jem'hadar when the last changeling dies?"

Laas visibly stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"We're a dying race. We both know it. Changelings can't reproduce, we've never been successfully cloned. Unless we find a way, we'll be gone in a few thousand years. What will happen to the Jem'hadar then?"

"_If_ such a terrible scenario comes to pass, the loyal Jem'hadar will join their gods in death. Naturally. So will with Vorta."

"You would condemn two species to extinction?" Odo said accusingly.

The Jem'hadar and Vorta behind Laas remained silent, but they were beginning to act nervous, glancing at each other and at Laas, as though waiting for someone to deny Odo's claim.

"They are ours to condemn," Laas replied.

Odo stared at him, sickened. That was the same attitude the Cardassians had for the Bajorans during the occupation, and it was as wrong now as it was then. "Not if I can help it," he vowed.

Laas exhaled a puff of air that was almost a laugh. "He won't listen to reason." He spoke to the Jem'hadar. "Kill them. _All_ of them. Even the traitor Odo."

The Jem'hadar had been prepared for that possibility, but they still found the order difficult to follow. They aimed first at Rinak'vaka and Kalaran.

"Get down!" Odo shot out golden tendrils that threw his companions to the floor, then turned into a thick mist to blind the attackers.

"Tsk tsk, Odo," said Laas. "You stole that trick from me." He reached into the fog, linked with it, and forced it to assume a liquid from.

Meanwhile, both Rinak'vaka and Kalaran pulled out weapons (which they weren't supposed to have brought) and fired at the approaching enemy soldiers.

"Aim for Odo, you fools!" Laas commanded as he struggled to impose his will on the less-experienced changeling. "Destroy Odo and you destroy them all!"

Two of Laas's most loyal soldiers took aim at the gelatinous pool Odo had become, but before they could fire, Rinak'vaka threw himself between them.

"_No!"_ Kalaran shouted. She leaped from her protective crouch, tackled Laas, and held her phaser to him. "Desist or he dies!" she yelled. She whispered to Laas, "Move and you die."

The Jam'hadar froze. Odo shifted into his humanoid shape.

"You would kill your god?" Laas asked incredulously.

"I have no god, and I serve only Odo. No, I serve only freedom."

A tentacle suddenly sprouted from Laas's head and covered Kalaran's eyes. She fired and leaped back. Laas convulsed in the energy beam.

"Run!" she shouted to Odo and Rinak'vaka.

"Not without you. Come on." Odo grabbed her arm, and together they retreated to the door. Rinak'vaka and Kalaran both kept their weapons trained on the weakened Founder.

As soon as they reached the door, they turned and ran down the corridor toward the airlock. A phaser beam shot from behind them and tore into Rinak'vaka. The only sound he made was the thump of hitting the floor.

"Rinak'vaka!" Kalaran halted and dove for him.

Odo's features twisted in anguish. He didn't want to abandon his loyal friend, but there was nothing they could do for him, and if he and Kalaran didn't reach their ship…

"Help me," Kalaran pleaded as she struggled to lift the heavy Jem'hadar off the floor.

The order to abandon him was on the tip of Odo's tongue, but the look of dual desperation and determination in Kalaran's eyes wouldn't let him utter it. Without consciously directing his body to do so, he stooped and helped lift Rinak'vaka up. They then ran as fast as they could while supporting him between them. Phaser fire danced around them as they fled.

* * *

"This is the place their heading would have brought them," Kira announced. 

"Slow to impulse."

Kira found it a little strange to not be in the captain's chair, but she had no regrets about asking Sisko to captain the _Defiant_ on this mysterious errand.

"How will we know when they show up?" Nog asked from the engineering console.

"Or _if_," Bashir added.

"I don't know," Sisko answered honestly. He then added with his characteristic confidence, "But we will."

Bashir cleared his throat before broaching his concern. "Even if they did survive the attack from the nairait ships, what makes us think they're the aliens Kira tried to contact? A subspace signal couldn't have made it back here in such short a time. I can't think of any way a _ship_ could have."

"I can think of a few ways," Kira responded. "Wormholes, Iconian gateways, even time travel."

"You would think of those, since you have personal experience with all of them," Captain Sisko chuckled. "But I don't think any of those are the answer this time."

"What _do_ you think, Sir?" It was Nog who asked the question.

"The _Tereshkova_ picked up an unexplained burst of subspace noise right after the alien ship disappeared. I think they have the technology to convert their entire ship and crew into a subspace signal."

"Is that even possible?" asked Kira.

"It's possible."

Bashir looked confused. "That would enable them to travel much faster than maximum warp, but in order to keep from colliding with stars, planets, and other matter, they would either only be able to travel through charted space, or drop out of subspace periodically to chart their course."

"I'm hoping it's the latter," Sisko said. "And I'm hoping they spot us when they do."

"Which should be…" Bashir did some quick calculations in his head, "in about eight minutes."

"Let's hope they weren't early."

They waited. Eight minutes passed uneventfully. Then ten. Then fifteen. Everyone was becoming visibly nervous, except for Sisko, who calmly watched the viewer.

Suddenly and without fanfare, a small, silvery ship slipped into normal space within viewing range.

"Hail them," Sisko ordered.

"No response."

"They might not use subspace for communication," Bashir suggested. "But what else could they use?"

"Captain, I'm picking up some strange radio waves emanating from that ship," said the ensign at the helm.

"Radio waves?" Bashir repeated. "Why would they be emanating radio waves?"

Everyone pondered that question. Bashir suddenly remembered something he learned in one of his holosuite programs: before humans had subspace technology, radio waves were used to carry signals. But before he could make the suggestion, the ensign at comm made an announcement.

"They're hailing us."

"By all means, let's answer them," Sisko said as he stood and stepped toward the viewer.

A female alien with tightly-braided white hair appeared on the screen. "Unidentified ship, I am Dr. Vo'xa of the BYSEV. I apologize for not answering your hails earlier, but we don't use subspace to communicate, and it took us a while to make our communication system compatible with yours."

"I'm Captain Benjamin Sisko of the Federation. I have a lot of questions."

"You are not the one who sent the distress signal to the BYSEV," Vo'xa observed, her voice lightly sprinkled with suspicion.

Kira stood up and moved into her line of sight. "I sent that signal. Nairait is threatening this quadrant. I hoped you could help us."

Vo'xa looked at her with unblinking azure blue eyes which were larger in proportion to her face than most humanoids' and had vertical slits for pupils. "I have several questions for you, as well," she announced. "Would you permit my crew to board your ship and search it for nairait?"

"How many are in your crew?" Sisko asked.

"Five."

"We'll beam you over."

Someone behind Vo'xa said something. She turned to listen, then locked her unblinking eyes on Sisko. "We'll use our own transporters. We want to make sure our weapons arrive intact."

"Agreed."

A moment later, the five aliens appeared on the bridge. To the crew's surprise, each one was clearly a different species. They also had no uniform: each one wore a different style of clothing.

"Allow me to introduce my crew," Vo'xa said. "This is our exobiologist, Ia Zh." She put her hand on the shoulder of a humanoid male. His long black hair was plaited in such a way as to resemble a fin along the top of his head, his eyes were silvery grey, his skin had a translucent quality, and he was dressed in a silky violet toga. Kira recognized him as a Yniln.

"This is our navigator and stellar cartographer, Gicu." This one resembled a giant greenish-brown lizard wearing a loincloth. He nodded to them in greeting.

"Our geologist, Uyiy." Uyiy was a giant worm, nearly six meters long. It had no apparent eyes, nose, mouth, or limbs, but it had two long antennae coming out of what was presumably its head. Its coloration was a poisonous-looking shiny black with bright red lateral stripes. It moved by means of vertical undulation, and wore no clothes at all.

"And our exosociologist, Tairis." Tairis was humanoid, but significantly taller than Vo'xa and Ia Zh. She was undeniably beautiful, with chin-length black hair that curved inward, large brown eyes, and pearlescent milky skin. She wore a form-fitting dark blue outfit with a dark red belt, from which hung a sleek, wiry gadget that was clearly some kind of energy weapon. She appeared to be the only one armed, and had a wary look in her eyes that Kira recognized.

"By 'exosociologist' did you mean 'security officer'?" she asked.

Vo'xa turned her head and regarded Kira curiously. "Tairis _is_ responsible for determining to what extent the beings we encounter are hostile or friendly," she answered simply.

"You're a crew of scientists on an exploratory mission, I presume?" Sisko asked, trying to alleviate Kira's lack of diplomacy.

"We are," Vo'xa answered. "Will you allow Ia Zh to scan your crew for nairoids while we answer each other's questions?"

"Nairoids?"

"That's what we call someone infected with nairait," she explained.

He nodded. "Of course."

Ia Zh pulled out a scanner and waved it over Captain Sisko. "He's uninfected," he determined after several seconds, then he moved on to the next nearest crewman.

"You called yourself 'doctor,'" Sisko observed. "Are you also the captain?"

"Our crew is not organized as yours is. I am responsible for the physical health of the crew and the safety of the ship. We regard one as an extension of the other."

"How did you get to our quadrant so quickly?" Dr. Bashir asked, joining the conversation after Ia Zh gave him a clean bill of health.

"Our explorations had taken us near your quadrant when BYSEV headquarters relayed the distress signal they'd accidentally picked up. One hundred and twenty Beid years ago, I helped the BYSEV solve our own nairait crisis, so I was a logical choice to help you. Also, our crew has a Qwa, Uyiy, and the Qwa are partially resistant to nairait infection."

This raised dozens of questions in Bashir's mind. He picked the first one for clarification. "Even if you were close to our quadrant and traveling at subspace speeds…how would the relayed signal have reached you so fast, especially since you use electromagnetic waves for intership communication?"

"We communicate with headquarters via a device that utilizes quantum entanglement. It is instantaneous, no matter the distance."

"Quantum entanglement!" Bashir gasped. "Scientists in our quadrant have been trying to send information with quantum entanglement for centuries without success."

"The Ecroshim perfected that technology. They are highly intelligent."

"Not to mention insufferably arrogant," Tairis mumbled. She was listening to the exchange while keeping an eye on the _Defiant's _crew.

Vo'xa shot her a warning look. There was a flash of sadness in her eyes that disappeared before she returned her gaze to Sisko. "The Ecroshim are one of the founding members of the BYSEV, an alliance of planets for the purpose of mutual protection, scientific cooperation, commerce, and diplomatic relations. The other founding members are my homeplanet Beidic, Yns—Ia Zh's homeplanet, Sorono, and Vrathria. Several other civilizations have joined since, including Qwa and Dass, where Gicu is from."

"The Federation is similar to that," Sisko said.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"You used the word 'nairait' in your message. How did you know what we called it?"

He looked to Kira. She answered nervously, unsure of how accepting these scientists were of spiritual phenomena. "I had a vision, which I believe was sent to me by my people's gods, warning about the nairait."

"Oh I see."

She couldn't tell if Vo'xa believed her or not. Ia Zh glanced at her, but she couldn't tell by his expression what he thought of it.

"If you don't mind my asking," Bashir requested, "how old are you?"

"I'm Two-hundred-fifty-eight Beid years old. I'm not sure that means much to you. What is your planet's distance from its star, and your star's surface gravity?"

"Eight point three light minutes. Twenty-seven point nine gees."

Vo'xa thought for several seconds. "Then I'm approximately one hundred ninety-five of your years old."

Bashir stared in amazement. "How did you make those calculations in your head?"

"I have an implant in my brain that acts as a calculator. It's very convenient; most Beid have one. It also increases memory recall. In fact, those numbers sound familiar. Are you by any chance from a planet called Earth?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

Vo'xa became visibly excited. "Explorers from our planet visited yours hundreds of years ago. They would be shocked to see the technological state you've achieved: they gave your species three-to-one odds that you'd destroy yourselves within a century."

"We nearly did," Bashir admitted.

Ia Zh was scanning Kira. He looked concerned by something he saw on the display of his scanner. "Vo'xa," he said, "I think you should look at this."

The smile disappeared from Vo'xa's face. She went over and peered at the display screen. Then she gave Tairis a look which caused the exosociologist/security officer to raise her gun and aim it squarely at Kira.

"She's infected," Vo'xa said solemnly.


	15. Unusual Allies

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I could take credit for the _Star Trek_ universe, I did not create it, and have no legal rights to it. But that doesn't mean I can't expand it.

Chapter 15

Burnau Bez knew Ro was in a foul mood well before he arrived at the security office, but for once it wasn't directed at him.

"Sorry I'm late. What did you want to see me about?" he asked somewhat politely.

"What, can't you read my mind?"

"I've been trying not to do that lately."

She wore a scowl that looked like it hadn't relaxed in hours. "Kira's not infected. I've been watching her closely since this whole thing began, and I'd stake my professional reputation on it."

"Do they have her in stasis?"

"Yes. The _Defiant_ will be arriving in under an hour. The Beta Quadrant aliens say they can create a cure as soon as they have access to the nairait in Bashir's lab. But to be honest, I don't trust them."

Bez suddenly understood. "And you want me to use my telepathy on them."

"Exactly. Come on." She grabbed him by the arm and tugged him out of the office.

They went to a place on the upper level of the Promenade with a good view of the airlocks.

"This is a great view," Bez commented.

"Will this be close enough? It's the closest spot I can think of where we won't be obvious."

"I think this will be fine," he answered.

They didn't wait long before the _Defiant_ docked. Sisko was the first person to disembark.

"He's feeling a tug of doubt," Bez informed Ro, "but he believes they are really trying to help."

He was followed by Dr. Bashir and the woman with white hair.

"What can you tell me about her?" Ro questioned.

"She's a scientist, a doctor. She's very old, and has lost many friends. She truly believes Kira's infected, but she also believes she'll be able to help her. She's not naturally inclined to either lie or keep secrets."

Nog and some of the other crew came into sight, accompanying two other of the new arrivals: a giant worm and lizard.

"I can't read the vermiform," he said. "The reptilian has a masculine imprint, a competitive streak…just spotted Quark's and decided to go there at the first opportunity."

A smile flickered at the corner of Ro's lips. "I'd love to be there when Quark gets a drink order from that thing."

A man with long black braids and a bright purple dress came next.

"This one's more mysterious. He's very complex. He's multi-layered and philosophical. Also, I'm picking up that he's distrustful."

None of this surprised Ro. The man's face was neither expressionless nor serene, but completely unreadable.

Bez hesitated. "But I don't sense he's hiding anything, either."

Another came out, a woman. She was distractingly beautiful, and unusually tall. She glanced around with the suspicious, calculating eye of a security officer and carried an unusual weapon, which Ro decided to talk to her about when official introductions were made.

When Bez made no comment, she glanced over at him impatiently. His face was contorted.

"So much pain," he squeaked out. "Such a heavy burden of guilt and uncertainty. I've never sensed anything like it. I don't know how she can survive with such deep wounds. Her pain soaks her every thought. It's as much a part of her as her blood. I can't stay here." He stood up. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Her anguish is too powerful; I can't shut it out." He ran to the nearest turbolift.

Ro took a better look at the woman who had caused such an adverse reaction in the telepath. She looked completely normal.

* * *

While the other BYSEV representatives were shown to quarters, Bashir lead Vo'xa directly to the Infirmary. 

Vo'xa's eyes fastened on the clear, airtight containers in which Bashir kept the nairait he'd isolated. She reached out, as though about to touch it, but her hand stopped above the transparent aluminum. Bashir noticed a strange ring on her finger.

"It's a remote sensing device," she explained, noticing the direction of his gaze. "It sends readings directly to the Tenix implant in my brain."

"Ia Zh didn't use a ring," he noted.

"Ia Zh doesn't have an implant. Not many d'Yniln do."

"Why not?"

Vo'xa shrugged. "Beids and d'Yniln don't even try to understand each other. It's one of our necessary compromises." She looked down at her hand, confusion evident in her expressive eyes.

"Why not? How are the Beid and…d'Yiniln," Bashir struggled with the pronunciation of the unfamiliar name, "related?"

"Beidic and Yns are the fourth and fifth planet of the same star system, Thamna-Zrid," she explained, looking distracted as she processed the nairait readings. "That two planets in the same star system produced sentient Beidoid lifeforms is an amazing coincidence. When we first made contact, the d'Yniln had never even come up with the concept of convergent evolution, so they explained our similarity by saying it must be a consequence of the implicit metaphysical connection between everything in the universe. That was the first thing our civilizations agreed to disagree about."

"That's fascinating. Did you make contact before…"

She interrupted him. "This makes no sense."

"What doesn't?"

She glanced up at him, then back at the nairait. "It looks like a descendent of one of the strains the BYSEV encountered, but…" She shrugged in impotent perplexity.

"But what?"

"It's not the same strain Kira Nerys is infected with."

"How can that be? What other strain…" he trailed off.

"I don't know. I can't imagine two different strains coincidentally attacking at the same time. I've never heard of that happening before."

"There may be another possibility," Bashir said slowly. "Is there any way I can get the readings you took of the nairait in Kira?"

"I could probably program your equipment to pick up the nairait resonance frequency," she suggested. "Though it could take a while. What are you thinking?"

"Have you ever encountered nairait that formed beneficial symbiotic relationships with hosts?"

"One," she answered. "An ancient, powerfully telepathic alien. The last of its species, it had survived for centuries through a symbiosis with a unique strain of nairait. We kept it at BYSEV headquarters to study. Unfortunately, during the war with the Kriel, when the headquarters were attacked the lab was flooded with radiation that killed the nairait. The alien died shortly after."

Bashir gave her access to his medical scanners. She began working on the upgrade.

"I believe we've found another species that exists in a symbiosis with nairait, in the Gamma Quadrant."

"The Gamma Quadrant? I didn't know your ships were capable of traveling that far."

"They're not. But there's a stable wormhole that connects us to the Gamma Quadrant. In fact, Deep Space Nine is the nearest outpost to it. When it was discovered, we moved the station here to claim it for the Federation."

"Amazing. We've never found or succeeded in creating a stable wormhole."

"Our scientists haven't been able to figure out what keeps it stable," Bashir said. "The Bajorans, like Kira, believe their gods live there…that they created it, which is why it's stable."

"Interesting hypothesis."

Bashir was burning with curiosity about the BYSEV and its technology. "How are you able to cure nairait infections?"

Vo'xa flashed a distracted, amused smile. "The Beid don't view medicine as treating a disease, Doctor; we treat the patient. Nairait relies on neurological connections with the host, the injection of a material tweaked to vibrate at the exact resonance of the specific nairait preferentially replaces those connections, and the nairait, which is no longer able to think for itself, responds to the sudden lack of nourishment by evacuating the host."

"I see. Fascinating."

"That's just one method. The easiest and safest. There are other ways."

"Such as?"

"Freezing the nairait out. We've had to resort to that in some extreme circumstances. It has the benefit of working on all strains of nairait. So you think the strain you found in the Gamma Quadrant is what we're detecting in Kira?"

"I don't know. It's highly possible. She's had…extensive contact with one of the members of the species."

"Tell me about them. How integrated is their symbiosis?"

"Complete," Bashir replied. "They are able to shapeshift into any form by manipulating the quantum differentiation of the nairait."

"Incredible," gasped Vo'xa. "Can you imagine what could be done if we could harness that power?" She grew quiet and thoughtful. "There's a story from Dass, dating to before they had interplanetary travel technology, about a shapeshifter that fell from the stars, was found and raised by a small farming community, and eventually became a hero and helped overthrow an oppressive tyrant. Eventually, he left in search of others like himself, promising to return one day. Of course, everyone thinks that's just a myth."

"Odo lived here for several years. Some Bajoran scientists found him, and he grew up in a lab with no idea of where he came from."

"He was your friend?"

Bashir nodded.

"But he found his people in the Gamma Quadrant."

Bashir glanced at her in surprise.

"You said they were from the Gamma Quadrant," Vo'xa explained. "I take it he drifted here through the wormhole?"

"Yes. We have no idea how long he spent floating in space before he was found."

"Like nairait," she noted.

"But he didn't go back to his people when we made contact with them. They turned out to be very xenophobic, secretive rulers of a political entity called the Dominion, which conquers other species through the use of genetically engineered soldiers called Jem'hadar. We fought a devastating and costly war against them when they tried to invade our quadrant. After we defeated them, Odo went back to his people to try to…reform them." Bashir wished he had phrased that in a way that didn't sound almost laughable.

"War is always so painful. Even the winners lose," the Beid doctor remarked. The look of pain and sadness indicated she spoke from experience. "I joined the BYSEV shortly after its conflict with a Yniln rebel group known as the Mahhina, was on a diplomatic mission to Torgo when civil war broke out there, and I was on the front lines during the war with the Kriel. That lasted years, and I lost many friends. The Kriel were ruthless. They are powerfully telekinetic, especially their Queen. She looked down on everyone and everything in the universe as inferior to herself, even the other Kriel. That was her undoing; the tide of the war turned when one of her closest lieutenants betrayed her for revenge against an unduly harsh punishment she'd inflicted years earlier."

"Odo betrayed the Founders—his people—out of his love for a humanoid."

"Love is as good a motive as revenge. The Dassa believe love and hate are equally powerful emotions, and both are necessary to a fulfilling life."

Bashir wasn't sure what to think of a species that believed that way. Vo'xa reminded him a little of Jadzia, with her cheerful passion and her frequent tangents. "Odo was instrumental in ending the war," he said. "The Founders have the ability to exchange information and feeling by linking their quantum string matrices. Odo linked with the Founder who led the war effort and convinced her to surrender. They were already losing, though they made us pay for every kilometer we retook, and they had been infected with a disease that would have killed them if Odo hadn't shared the cure with them."

"That's how the Beid and d'Yniln defeated the Sorono. The Sorono were a warlike race back then. They had fought each other for control of their world for thousands of years, but when they developed interstellar travel, they decided to conquer other worlds instead. The first inhabited system they came to was ours—this was almost a thousand years ago, after Beid and Yns made contact with each other, but before they had interstellar technology. The Sorono had vastly superior weapons and ships, so they thought the war would be over quickly. They were right in that, but not in who would win." She took obvious pride in her species' past accomplishments. "Even then, Beidic had medical knowledge superior to any other civilization we've encountered. The first Sorono body Beid doctors got their hands on provided them with enough genetic information to engineer a species-specific virus with a long gestation period, and a long and painful symptomatic period. Within weeks, most of the Sorono were infected. They surrendered unconditionally. That's how Beidic and Yns got interstellar technology."

Bashir stared at her. He felt ill. He didn't want to criticize Vo'xa or her people when they so obviously needed them, but he couldn't help it. "That's horrible!" he exploded. "You…you engineered a virus to wipe out your enemy! Have you no conscience?"

Vo'xa looked confused and a little hurt. "But you just said you did the same thing to the Founders."

"That was the work of a small group, acting without regard to Federation law or any semblance of common decency. I almost died to extract the cure from them."

She blinked, a gesture so fleet it was almost indistinguishable. "They didn't offer them the cure in exchange for their surrender? You mean they were actually trying to _kill them all?_" It was her turn to feel disgusted. "The Beid would never do that. We only did what we had to—fought back with the only weapon we had that would prevail against an enemy superior in arms and numbers."

Bashir realized he'd leaped to judgment too quickly. "I'm sorry, it's just…doctors in our society have a responsibility…we take an oath to not use our medical knowledge to harm others."

"Beid doctors take no such oath," Vo'xa said, a little defensively. "Who better to decide when it is necessary to take life than those who are devoted to saving and improving lives?"

The two doctors looked at each other across a cultural chasm they doubted they could ever bridge. It was Vo'xa who broke the silence. "Well…I hope we can at least agree to put aside our differences long enough to cure your friends of the nairait."

"Doctor Vo'xa, I wouldn't presume to pass judgment on your cultural practices."

"But you just did." She looked down at the bioscanner. "Got it."

Bashir walked over and examined the readings. "That's it," he confirmed. "It's not nairait she's infected with, it's changeling."

They simultaneously noticed the distribution patterns.

Vo'xa turned to Bashir with a wry smile on her lips. "Just how extensive did you say her contact was?"

* * *

The patrons of Quark's bar tried not to stare at the new arrivals. The first one wasn't incredibly unusual; most of the people in the room had met sentient reptilians of some species before, but his long, narrow tail sticking straight out behind him, his triangular snout, and the fact that he was wearing a loincloth all served to draw attention. The other one was unlike anything any of them had ever seen. While the reptilian walked with a jittery, graceless gait, the vermiform moved in a regular, almost hypnotic vertical wave. Its dramatic coloration was also eye-catching. 

The reptilian halted in the middle of the room. His companion came to a smooth, eerily-motionless stop beside him. Its antennae twitched.

"Nice place," said Gicu. His voice was throaty, and included a barely-perceptible yet annoying low croaking sound.

Uyiy's left antenna vibrated, producing sounds the universal translator recognized as speech, but couldn't peg as masculine or feminine. "Seems friendly; no one's tried to kill us yet."

They continued to the barstools. Gicu sat down with his tail and legs sticking out at equal angles. Uyiy coiled itself on the seat like a snake, head raised to the eye-level of the nearby humanoids.

Quark prided himself on being an equal-opportunity swindler—just as the 154th Rule of Acquisition said: "Discrimination is bad for business; if you don't like the look of a customer, focus on their latinum." But he couldn't imagine these two being anything but trouble.

"Give us two of your most popular," Gicu instructed.

"Wait," Uyiy put one antenna on his shoulder like a hand. "We should find out what they use as currency in this quadrant."

"Gold-pressed latinum," Quark informed them.

"Gold-pressed latinum…That may present a problem," Uyiy said.

"What do you use as currency where you're from?"

"It varies," Gicu answered. "On Dass we use gemstones, on Sorono they use small, decorative knives, Yns uses cloth…"

"Qwa has a barter system," Uyiy added. "Ecroshim don't use currency; they have a strict code of mutual cooperation. The Kriel traditionally used slaves, but now they use small metal tokens. The Beid used to use tidbits of knowledge as money, but now they keep track of all resources electronically. I don't suppose any of this sounds enticing to you?"

Quark had the vague impression that they were mocking him, but he dismissed it and made a show of considering their offers. "Well, maybe the gemstones. If you happen to have any of those, we could make a deal."

"I have some silicon carbide crystals back in my mineral collection," said Uyiy. "Naturally formed, flawless, big as your head…perhaps we could sell you some?"

"Or maybe," Gicu suggested, "we could ask around to see how much they would be worth. That Captain Sisko struck me as an honest creature."

With the thought of what Sisko might say, Quark saw his potential profits flash before his eyes. "Of course, you could start a tab. That way you'd get your drinks right now without having to bother going back to your ship."

Gicu and Uyiy exchanged a look, which Quark didn't quite catch.

"That's acceptable," Uyiy agreed. "Since we'll probably be here until we can sort out this nairait thing."

"And who knows how long that will be," Gicu added.

Quark brought them two glasses of Yridian Ale. "Enjoy."

Uyiy dipped its antenna in the liquid.

"How is it?" Gicu asked.

Without taking its antenna out of the ale, Uyiy spoke by vibrating the other one. "Either they like their alcohol weak in this quadrant, or our bartender is unscrupulous."

Gicu wrapped his knobby, clawed fingers around his glass and lifted it to his scaly lips. "The latter," he determined.

Quark, who hadn't moved from right in front of them, was struck speechless for an instant. The instant dragged out much longer than it otherwise would have due to the entrance of two more strangers.

The discreetly curious eyes of the customers shifted to the tall woman with the voluptuous curves. Behind her was a smaller man with long black hair. He stood out for a different reason, which no one could quite put their finger on. He fit in the setting about as well as a droplet of mercury on an impressionist painting.

They went directly to their shipmates.

"Tairis, Ia," Uyiy greeted them, warning Gicu of their presense.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Tairis demanded.

Gicu didn't turn around. "Enjoying a drink, getting to know the locals…"

"Care to join us?" Uyiy asked.

"You know I don't drink," said Tairis.

"And we're all technically supposed to be working," Ia Zh reminded them. His tone didn't carry the condemnation that Tairis's had.

"Working on what?" Gicu retorted. "This station has plenty of new species to keep an exosociologist and exobiologist busy, but until we get back to the mission, there won't be much for a stellar cartographer and a geologist to do."

Ia Zh sighed. "Very well. Just make sure you're in working condition in case we need you."

He turned with a swish of delicate silk and walked out. Tairis followed him.

They didn't notice Ro Laren, who had been sitting alone at a table near the exit, get up and follow them.

Outside the bar, Ia Zh leaned against the railing and looked down on the lower level. Tairis stood beside him.

"Interesting place," Tairis commented.

"In some ways it reminds me of BYSEV headquarters, with representatives of so many species coming together. But it's…much less organized."

"Less clean," Tairis commented. "More organic. But I still almost expect to see Beidic when I glance out the window."

"I hear there's a great view of that stable wormhole from the upper pylons. I've been thinking of going there to meditate."

"You know, I don't remember your mother ever meditating," Tairis commented.

Ia Zh shrugged. "She was never very spiritually inclined."

"I guess that's another thing I didn't know we had in common," she said thoughtfully.

Ia Zh glanced at her. He concealed his emotions too well to tell if he was surprised. "What's your opinion on religion?"

"I prefer not to think about it. The idea of a soul surviving after death…forever…It's one of the most terrifying concepts ever conceived."

They shared a thoughtful silence.

"I don't think my mother ever blamed you," Ia Zh told her. "She never forgave Vo'xa or Cheran, or especially Mri Rercha, but she didn't blame you."

"I wish I knew that for sure. I don't think any of us ever fully forgave ourselves for abandoning her, for thinking she betrayed us. I'm surprised she stayed through the Kriel war. I'm also surprised she approved of you joining the BYSEV."

"It wasn't that she approved, she just knew it was futile to try to stop me. I grew up hearing her talk about the adventures she had, the places she saw, and the people she met…I think she realized she was partly responsible for me wanting some stories of my own."

Tairis turned her eyes downward. "I'm going to see if Vo'xa needs my help. I'll talk to you later."

Ia Zh watched her for a moment, then turned in the opposite direction.

Ro emerged from her hiding place in time to see that Tairis went to the turbolift instead of the Infirmary. Her curiosity was piqued, but she decided not to follow.

* * *

Kira blinked her eyes several times. She was on a biobed. Dr. Bashir and Dr. Vo'xa were the only others in the room. 

"Am I cured?" she asked.

"Well…" Bashir looked a little embarrassed. "It turns out you weren't really infected."

Kira looked from him to Vo'xa and back. "Oh. That's good."

"Would you like to tell her in private?" Vo'xa asked Bashir.

"Tell me what?" Kira asked before he could answer.

"Kira…you're pregnant."


	16. Reunion

Disclaimer: I disavow all ownership, creative or legal rights, and inspiration of _Star Trek Deep Space Nine_, any and all other _Star Trek_ series, etc.

Note: contains reference (kind of a summary, actually) to my other story _The Reilu Compromise._

Chapter 16

"I'm _what!_"

"Pregnant," Bashir repeated.

"That's impossible. I haven't been with anyone since Odo."

"Odo," he said, "is the father."

Kira gaped at him. "You can't be serious. That's completely...not possible."

"I would have thought so, but the evidence proves otherwise. As near as I can figure it, your...condition...resulted from Odo's morphogenic matrix coming in contact with your genetic material. I won't speculate on the circumstances."

"But...but I haven't even seen Odo in over five months!"

"There's no way to tell how long ago it happened," Bashir explained. "Her DNA is identical to yours, so we wouldn't have found it during your regular physical. She appears to be about the size of the infant changeling Quark sold to Odo. For all we know, she could be years old already."

Kira pressed her hand to her flat abdomen. Disbelief was giving way to amazement.

Vo'xa spoke. "We think it's developed enough to safely be born at any time."

"But, of course, we can't be sure," Bashir amended, "since this pregnancy has no precedent we're aware of."

She was no longer paying attention to them; her mind was racing. Odo said that changelings couldn't reproduce. If what Bashir told her was true, it could prove to be the salvation of their species. She suddenly remembered the vision the Prophets sent her: they told her this would happen. She knew the child's name as though it, too, had been bestowed by the Prophets: Cerunvic, ancient Bajoran for "Golden Light."

* * *

"Imzadi, I'm home," Nshevalth called as she entered the quarters she shared with her husband. It had been a long day. She realized Burnau might already have gone to bed, though he usually stayed up at least long enough to greet her. 

No one answered. He was probably already in bed, or maybe something had come up at work that kept him late.

She went to the replicator to get a light dinner, then sat down at the small Betazoid mahagony dinner table and smiled at the centerpiece, a stylized glass replica of Andorian Twilight Lilies in an ancient Earth vase of a gentle grey-green color. Behind it on the wall was a pre-warp Orion tapestry depicting a scene from a creation myth. On a nearby shelf were replicas of ancient books and scrolls from various cultures. Burnau had always been a history buff, and what the Tzenkethi Autocracy disparagingly labelled a 'xenophile,' and his eclectic tastes reflected both these traits. She, in contrast, was a minimalist. Her contributions to their quarter's decor consisted of a layout that left at least twice as much empty space around a piece of furniture as it occupied, and a few small momentos she'd brought from Tzenketh, such as holophotos of her family.

These quarters definitely felt like home.

After putting the remains of her meal in the recycler, she went to the bedroom, where, she was surprised to find, Burnau was still awake, staring out the window.

"I thought you were asleep."

He didn't answer her. He didn't even move.

Nshevalth began to worry. "Burnau, what's wrong?"

He wasn't allowing her to pick up on his thoughts, which didn't happen often.

She moved to where she could see his face, which was tight with extreme concentration.

"Burnau?"

"Go to bed, Nshevalth."

She couldn't remember him ever speaking so sharply to her.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't talk right now." His concentration was slipping. Nshevalth picked up on wisps of emotion.

"Please just tell me," she implored.

"It's the...the exobiologist from the Beta Quadrant. I touched her mind, Nshevalth...I saw her mind and now I can't get it out." He squeezed his eyes shut.

Burnau had told her stories of powerful telepaths suffering mental breakdowns from thoughts or memories that were too painful to confront. There were even occasional "sympathetic suicides."

"Give it to me," she said. "Let me carry some of it for you. Please."

"I can't do that."

Nshevalth lifted her hand to him. Though Betazoids weren't touch-telepaths, she knew from experience that physical contact could enhance the connection, and that it would break his concentration enough that he would automatically reach out to her telepathically, like a stumbling child grasping the hand of a nearby adult. The moment her fingers brushed his temple, she got a flash from his mind.

_Bodies. Blood. Black. Red. Screams. Survivors falling to the ground, shrieking, praying for death. A stabbing sense of failure. Guilt_.

Nshevalth had seen death and suffering, both in the war and in the form of public tortures and execution on her home planet. The striking thing about the memory was the emotion, the unquestionable certainty that every single death was her fault.

"What did she do?" Nshevalth asked shakily.

"I don't know. She tries so hard to push it from her thoughts. She tries so hard..." He trailed off. His eyes opened. He stared out at some distant star and concentrated on it like his life depended on pushing everything else from his mind.

Nshevalth stooped down to look at his face more closely. "Burnau?" she said.

He continued to stare. Nshevalth wasn't even sure he could hear her anymore.

* * *

Vo'xa didn't need to ask direction to the quarters assigned to her in the habitat ring; she had seen the layout of the station once, and now it was stored permanently in her Tenix implant. She was grateful for that, since it was deep in the night by the time she and the human doctor had finished creating the antidote to the nairait. The three former nairoids were resting in the Infirmary. They would be fit to return to duty in a day or two. 

Vo'xa, exhausted as she was, smiled. She took great satisfaction from her work.

Ro watched her from the upper level. When she saw what turbolift Vo'xa was heading for, she got there first and waited for her.

Vo'xa stepped on to the turbolift with a polite smile to Ro.

"Habitat ring," Ro instructed the computer. She watched Vo'xa out of the corner of her eye.

"This place is quiet this time of day," Vo'xa observed conversationally.

"Yes." Ro finally gave the other woman a direct look. "You're the captain of that Beta Quadrant ship that came in earlier today, aren't you?" Her tone had started conversational, then became accusatory, and ended inquisitively. Ro realized she was nervous. For some reason, the alien reminded her of Captain Picard, and made her feel very young.

"Yes I am. My name's Vo'xa. May I ask who you are?"

"Ro Laren. I'm the chief of security for the station."

Vo'xa nodded to herself. "I had a feeling I would be meeting you at some point. I assume you've already acquainted yourself with the rest of my crew?"

"Somewhat," she answered carefully. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. One of my deputies has some concerns about one of your crew. He's a telepath…"

"Is this about Tairis?" Vo'xa asked, suddenly sounding more serious than she had.

"That's right," Ro confirmed.

Vo'xa closed her eyes. "I wish someone had informed me there was a telepath on board. There are a few Beids gifted with telepathy, but none of them have gone to work with BYSEV for years. I've heard unofficial reports that the Beid telepathic community has been actively avoiding Tairis."

"Tell me about her."

"I'm afraid there's not much I _can_ tell you about her. Early in my BYSEV career, While I was assigned to a ship on a survey mission, we picked up an unusual distress signal coming from an uninhabited planetoid. When we went to investigate, we discovered a stasis chamber with an alien from an unknown species. It was Tairis. We had no way of knowing how long the stasis chamber had been there, and she never told us how she got there."

"And you trust her?"

"With my life and the lives of my crew. I've worked with her closely for longer than you've been alive." She paused. "I'm going to need her if we have trouble with the nairait. Maybe you should consider giving your deputy a vacation until this is over."

After considering it briefly, Ro accepted that that was the most sensible plan.

* * *

Kira couldn't sleep. She was still too dazed from the doctors' diagnosis. She decided to take a late-night walk around the station and ended up, almost by accident, in the quiet corner of Upper Pylon Three where she sometimes went to watch the Wormhole. It was quiet now, and no ships were scheduled for the next few days, but she could tell the exact point of the Wormhole's event horizon from the pattern of stars behind it. 

Her hand drifted of its own accord to her stomach.

The Prophets were there. The Prophets who, months before, had given her a vision about the child she would have. And beyond the Wormhole was the Gamma Quadrant...and Odo.

Kira suddenly realized she wasn't alone. She looked over at one of the Beta Quadrant aliens--the Yniln, Ia Zh--who was standing as still as a statue, apparently meditating.

"I hoped I would have an opportunity to talk with you," he said without looking in her direction. His voice was soft, yet somehow powerful.

Kira studied his ghostly reflection in the window. His face was not blank of expression like a Vulcan's, but it gave no hint to what he might have been thinking. He reminded Kira uncomfortably of the vedek whose suicide prompted her to form a resistence when the Dominion occupied the station. At the same time, his mere presence served as a calming influence: he seemed so in control, so...unworried. It made her feel like she didn't have to worry, either. She'd noticed that about him when they were putting her in stasis: he hadn't seemed afraid either of her or for her.

"You said your gods sent you a vision that led you to contact us. The Prophets, you call them. Tell me about them."

"They live in the Celestial Temple, what most people call the Wormhole, and watch over Bajor. They guide us."

"What do they look like?"

Kira almost smiled at the question that most Bajorans would find ridiculous. "They don't have a form we can comprehend. Those who have visions of them see them as people they know. Others call the Prophets 'Wormhole Aliens' and consider them powerful beings that exist outside linear time."

Ia Zh continued staring out at the stars. "I understand," he said.

"I learned a little about the religion of the d'Yniln from my vision," Kira mentioned. "Can you tell me what the words 'mathgrin' and 'theilkrCu' mean?" She remembered the words as clearly as if she'd just heard them.

"The Mathgrin is the political and spiritual leader of Yns. The Mathgrin is served by the _theilkrCu--_the priests. The theilkrCu apoint a new Mathgrin, usually one handpicked by the old one, upon the Mathgrin's death. The Mathgrin is forbidden to have children, and those who choose the path of the theilkrCu give up all hope of becoming Mathgrin. Some regard the Mathgrin as a living connection to the _Cu_, the lifeforce of the universe, from which we all came and will someday return to."

"And what is the _Thilnhwag_ Affirmation?"

Ia Zh very nearly smiled in amusement. "Affirmations are the deep truths we contemplate while we meditate. the _Thilnhwag_ states simply 'I am the universe.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I couldn't tell you what it means for you. We meditate to figure out what an Affirmation means to us individually."

"What does it mean to you?" she asked.

"Physically, we are made of elements that formed from the fusion reactions of stars," he answered smoothly. "So in a very literal sense, all lifeforms are concentrations of the matter of the universe. And when we die, the elements of our bodies are once again added to the building blocks of the universe. I believe the spirit, or animating force, or whatever you choose to call it, is equally literal and exactly parallels the matter and energy that compose who we are."

"I guess that makes sense."

"More obsessive Contemplators of _Cu_ would disapprove of me sharing my insight with a nonbeliever who hadn't yet found an answer for herself, but you strike me as the kind of person who doesn't let others think for her. I know Beids would consider it irrational to jump to such a conclusion about someone I just met, but d'Yniln value irrationality, and we trust our intuitions." He continued to stare fixidly at the stars. Then, without a word in parting, he turned away from her and silently, gracefully departed.

Kira watched his reflection until he disappeared, then focused on the view outside the window. Space looked darker than usual, and the stars seemed closer. "_I am the universe,_" she whispered experimentally. Superficially, it sounded like the most conceited sentence utterable. Kira had never had the luxury of thinking of herself first. Then her thoughts turned inward, to the changeling child she carried. At the moment, she was all the infant changeling knew of reality. Didn't that make her its universe? She went on to ponder how a changeling might interpret such a statement, how it related to Bajoran beliefs, and how different species drew different lines between their concept of self and everything else. Perhaps the d'Yniln didn't draw that line at all.

Her commbadge chirped, startling her from a train of thought which might have led to a valuable insight.

"Ops to Kira." It was Prynn Tenmei's voice. She sounded worried.

"Go ahead."

"We're getting some readings from the listening post in the Gamma Quadrant. You should see this."

* * *

Kira burst into Ops mere minutes later. "What's going on?" she asked bluntly. 

"Not sure," Tenmei admitted. "We picked up a fleet of Jem'hadar ships approaching. For a couple of minutes we were afraid they're the first wave of an invasion, but they've set up a defensive parimeter around the Wormhole."

"Laas," Kira whispered.

"Captain?"

"The changeling Laas has been causing problems in the Dominion for months. He even sent Taran'atar to assassinate Odo," she explained. "He also tried to destroy the Wormhole. I'm willing to bet those are ships loyal to Odo. It looks like the civil war is about to begin."

"Captain," said Ensign Luth, "One of the ships just entered the Wormhole."

"Hail them."

"They're hailing _us_, sir."

With a curt nod, Kira indicated to open the channel.

Odo's familiar voice poored over the comm. "This is the _Shkalek _to Deep Space Nine. Requesting emergency medical assistance."

Kira tried to keep any emotion out of her voice. "Acknowledged. We'll beam your casualties to the Infirmary as soon as you're within range. What kinds of injuries can we expect?"

It was the Vorta Kalaran who answered. "Four Jem'hadar have extensive plasma burns, another one has neural trauma and severe blood loss."

The Captain nudged aside one of the ensigns and read off the console. "Your ship can proceed to docking clamp three. I'm giving you priority clearance."

"Thank you...Captain."

She had to smile at his show of formality by addressing her by her title. She knew no one in Ops was fooled.

"Kira to Infirmary."

"Go ahead."

"Prepare to receive four injured Jem'hadar. You might want to wake up Bashir." She made the mental note to give him some time off when the immediate crisis was over as recompense for all the overtime he was doing.

After the _Shkalek_ docked minutes later (minutes that seemed excruciatingly long to Kira) she went to the Infirmary. Bashir and the regular nightshift doctor were working frantically over one of their patients, the Jem'hadar Kira recognized as First Rinak'vaka.

"Kira...Captain."

She turned to see Odo, standing next to Kalaran. She hadn't seen him in months, and had to physically restrain herself from running into his arms. "What happened?" she asked, nodding to the injured Jem'hadar.

"We were trying to negotiate a truce, but it was a trap."

"We would be dead if it weren't for Rinak'vaka," Kalaran added.

Bashir glanced over at them. "He'll recover, but if you had brought him in even an hour later, it would have been too late."

Odo's face relaxed with relief.

"I'll arrange for quarters for your crew while you're on the station," Kira stated. "It looks like your ship isn't going anywhere for a few days."

"They fired on us while we were trying to escape." He harrumphed. "And now I also owe my life to Weyoun; it's a very distressing situation."

Bashir chuckled. Kira gave him a sharp glare for listening in on their conversation.

"I'll...show you to your quarters," she said to Odo and Kalaran.

"If you don't mind," the Vorta said, glancing at Kira, then Bashir, then Odo, "I'd like to stay here. I do have some medical background..."

"That's fine with me," said Odo. He looked to Bashir, who nodded.

Kira and Odo walked through the silent Promenade. By this time it was close to the station's arbitrary morning. Kira was grateful that Bashir insisted in putting her on medical leave, so she wouldn't have to wake up early for work the next moring.

"Thank you again, Nerys," Odo said as they boarded the turbolift.

"Habitat ring," Kira said to the computer before turning to look directly at Odo. In the dim of the night lighting, she was reminded of the first time she laid eyes on him, in the Bajoran ghetto on Terok Nor. He had looked so...different to her then. He looked plain, easily forgettable in spite of his obvious otherness, unfinished. Now it was the face of the man she loved. "You know you're always welcome here, Odo," she said softly.

He looked at her searchingly. "What happened here tonight?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"It's almost morning, and you obviously haven't slept yet. You're still in uniform. I saw Ezri and Commander Vaughn in the Infirmary. Our sensors picked up readings from a ship of completely unknown configuration docked next to the _Defiant._ Something happened."

She didn't answer immediately. The turbolift came to a stop. Kira walked out with Odo following behind.

"Kira, I want to help."

"I know," she said. "It's just...I'm not sure where to begin." Or how much to reveal. Did she want to tell him about the nairait and his species' connection to it? If she told him about the visitors from the Beta Quadrant, could she avoid telling him that she had been in stasis until only a few hours ago, and why Bashir had released her? She wanted to tell him that part--desperately--but she was still getting used to the idea herself, and wasn't at all sure how to spring it on him that he was going to be a father. "Several months ago, we...I...There were reports about unexplained deaths and disappearances...We had reason to believe they were being caused by a parasitic organism that controlled the minds of the infected."

"Like the parasite attack that happened the last time I was here?"

"Like that, but different. This was harder to find, and harder to kill. We'd...never seen anything like it. It was undetectible to our scans." They arrived at her quarters. After the door hissed closed behind them, she turned to look at Odo. He was worried about her, she could tell. And he knew she was holding something back. "But we've recently had a breakthough. I think the crisis is almost over."

"Why don't you want to tell me about it? You're avoiding going into details."

"I'll tell you later. I'm very tired."

"No you're not. Which is in itself mysterious."

She smiled self-conciously. It amazed her how well he could read her. "I've missed you so much."

Odo decided the explanation could wait until later. The past few months had been so difficult: constantly watching Laas's forces, trying to figure out his next move, and quietly courting allies. So many times he found himself wishing Kira were with him, lending him her experience and strength. And now she was with him again. And she looked, if possible, more beautiful than ever before. He took a step toward her. "Nerys?"

She recognized the longing in his eyes, and stepped closer to him. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. They didn't move again for over a minute, then Kira drew back a little and looked up at him. Their lips were centimeters apart. Odo closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being so close to her for a long moment before slowly closing the gap until their lips met.


	17. In the Shadow of the Sword

Disclaimer: I did not have the good fortune and creative ability to come up with the whole _Star Trek_ idea. I'm not, nor have I ever (nor, likely, will I ever) benefit financially there from.

Chapter 17

Kira woke up slowly. She was sure she had heard something, or was that just a dream?

"Ops to Kira." The voice issuing over the comm system sounded impatient. He must have been paging her for some time.

"Go ahead," Kira called as clearly as she could.

"Admiral Ross is on subspace, and he insists on speaking with you and Captain Sisko."

Kira groaned. "Tell him I'll be a few minutes."

The voice, which she now recognized as the new communications officer Leri Ghendar, paused, as though considering whether it would be worth it to urge haste. "Acknowledged," he replied.

Kira pushed herself up. She looked over at her sleeping companion, now in the form of a beautiful shimmering fluid. She reached down and ran her fingers through it. Though he moved like a liquid, he felt dry and smooth and warm. She smiled. Then she reluctantly slid out of bed.

* * *

Sisko was waiting for her in her office. He gave her a cautionary look, to which she nodded in acknowledgement. 

"Admiral Ross," she said as pleasantly as she could. "What can we do for you?"

"You can explain why exactly you brought representatives of a new species to Deep Space Nine without so much as notifying Starfleet. For starters." He was every bit as irritated as she feared.

For a moment, Kira was tempted to defer to Sisko, but a mixed sense of responsibility and loyalty prevented her. "I decided it would be prudent to act as quickly as possible, sir."

"Not to mention that we can't be sure who in Starfleet we can trust," Sisko added, eager to accept his share of the responsibility.

"Putting aside the fact that first contact situations are delicate matters, Starfleet Medical is the first place the Beta Quadrant representatives should have been brought for debriefing on the nairait situation. Don't you think?"

"With all due respect, no," Kira answered. "We're the ones who actually had infected people in stasis. We also still have a contingent of Starfleet Security in the sector in case anything went wrong and we needed to enforce quarantine again."

Ross's expression changed. "You have a cure?"

"The Beta Quadrant aliens do have a treatment, yes," Sisko confirmed.

The admiral blinked, then nodded. "Just keep me updated, okay?"

"Of course, sir," said Kira.

"Ross out."

Kira and Sisko were silently thoughtful for several seconds.

"If Starfleet knows, then _they_ know," Kira muttered.

"I'm afraid you're right. I think I should have a talk with Dr. Vo'xa."

"I think that's a good idea. I'm going to go to the Infirmary to check on Ezri and Vaughn. I'm guessing Vo'xa will be there, too."

They went to the Infirmary, where they found Bashir alone.

"Where's Doctor Vo'xa?" Sisko inquired.

"And the patients?"

"Ezri, Vaughn, and Doctor Grek are recovering in their quarters. I released them earlier this morning. They don't seem to have suffered any permanent damage from the infection. I think Doctor Vo'xa is in one of Nshevalth's holosuites."

They turned to leave.

"Captain," Bashir said quickly. Both Kira and Sisko halted. "Kira," he clarified, "Do you have a few spare minutes?"

"For what?"

"There are some tests I'd like to run."

She glanced at Sisko, whose eyebrow was raised in curiosity. "I trust you can brief Vo'xa on you own?" she asked.

"Of course."

Sisko left and Kira took a seat on a biobed. "What kind of tests are you talking about?" she asked nervously, memories of the medical procedures she endured while carrying Yoshi O'Brien only too clear.

"I want to see whether your...pregnancy is effecting your blood chemistry. Whether it is or not could tell me a lot about what exactly is happening in you."

"Okay. Let's get this over with."

Bashir ran a medical tricorder over her. Then he took a blood sample for closer examination. "No, it looks like your blood chemistry is perfectly normal. Except for an unusually high level of trimethylxanthine. I suggest more sleep and fewer raktajinos."

"I'll keep that in mind..."

"Why wouldn't her blood chemistry be normal?"

Bashir and Kira looked up at the intrusion of the voice. Odo stood in the door.

He looked at them almost accusingly. "Kira, what's wrong?"

Bashir glanced at her. "You haven't told him?" he whispered.

"Told me what?"

"The opportunity didn't come up."

Bashir shook his head in mock dismay, but couldn't suppress a half smile. "If you'll excuse me, I think you two have a lot to talk about." He took Kira's test results and retreated to his lab.

Odo sat on the biobed next to Kira. He was clearly very concerned.

"Odo, I'm not sure how to tell you this. I'm pregnant."

When he didn't answer, she looked up slowly. His face was carefully blank of emotion, but she saw pain in his eyes. "That's...wonderful. I'm very happy for you," he whispered miserably.

At first Kira was struck dumb with incredulity, then she laughed out loud. "You don't understand." She gently took his hand and pressed it to her belly. "We're pregnant. It's ours.Yours and mine."

"How is that possible?" he asked. "How could that happen?"

"Julian says it's my DNA integrated with your morphogenic matrix, but he's not exactly sure how it happened. I think I know when it happened, though: that night in the cave on Ulobi Eight."

"But you're barely showing."

"Well it's not a Bajoran pregnancy, it's a changeling pregnancy. It's not the same." She smiled. "And I can't say I miss the sneezing."

Discordant emotions vied for expression on Odo's face: confusion, disbelief, bliss, love, hope. Bliss won out. He closed his eyes. "Nerys...I can feel it. I can sense it."

"I wish I could. It would make it easier to believe. It seems so unreal."

"If you wouldn't mind...Would you mind if Kalaran examines it?"

She flinched. "Kalaran? Why?"

"When she told Bashir she had some medical experience, it was an understatement: she's one of the best geneticists in the Dominion."

Kira considered it, and quickly realized that the only reason she wanted to refuse was her lingering resentment and distrust toward the Dominion. "Okay."

* * *

The _Shkalek_'s medical bay was a sparse room that originally served as a kind of triage center for Jem'hadar, but lately Kalaran had set up some equipment of her own in it. 

"It's definitely a changeling," the Vorta announced, smiling broadly. "Perfectly healthy, and except for the Bajoran DNA perfectly normal. Congratulations."

Since her medical equipment was specially calibrated to administer to changelings, she had been able to do a much more thorough examination than Dr. Bashir. She was even able to confirm Kira's theory of how old it was.

Odo said little during the examination. That he was going to be a father was beginning to sink in .

"Thank you," Kira said. She looked at Odo, not quite able to read his silence.

"Incidentally, if you want to alter its DNA in any way, now would be a good time to do it," Kalaran mentioned.

"I don't think so. Odo, what do you think?"

"Hm?" He looked up, then realized what she just said. "That depends. I had a desire to return to the Great Link hardwired into my genetic code. Will she...?"

Kalaran shook her head. "No. Only your shapeshifting ability was passed on. Her genetic code is identical to Kira's."

Odo gazed fondly at the Bajoran . "Then I don't want you to change a thing."

"Whatever you say," Kalaran joked. "She's _your_ kid."

"You're not like any of the other Vorta I've met," Kira observed.

"Kalaran," explained Odo, "lost faith in the Founders lifetimes ago."

"I've been a gene engineer for most of my existence. I've worked on tweaking the Jem'hadar and designer slave laborers for different planetary conditions, as well as creating diseases to punish or control rebellious species. It didn't take me long to realize that if the Founders were really gods, they wouldn't need Vorta and Jem'hadar to do their dirty work. I suppose they would consider me 'defective,' but I managed to keep quiet and keep myself useful enough that they didn't try to 'correct' the error in any of my subsequent clones."

"I see."

"She's working on deprogramming the Jem'hadar and the Vorta," Odo added. He looked at the results of Kalaran's examination like a humanoid father would look at a prenatal image of his child. "A job that might become much easier now: once the Dominion knows changelings can reproduce—knows that changelings can only reproduce with the help of solids..."

"We'll win," Kalaran stated softly.

Odo locked eyes with Kira. He suddenly seemed uncertain. "If that's what you want."

"'If that's what_ I_ want'?" Kira laughed. "As far as I'm concerned, this is a miracle from the Prophets. They sent us a child for a purpose, and maybe part of that purpose is to help reform the Dominion."

The door opened. Rinak'vaka entered.

"First Rinak'vaka," Kalaran greeted him with a friendliness that undermined her formality. "I'm gratified to see you're recovered."

"Thanks to your Doctor Bashir," he said to Kira. "Are you injured?" he questioned, confused at finding her in the _Shkalek_'s medical bay.

"No. I'm fine."

"Rinak'vaka, look at these readings." Kalaran angled her console so the Jem'hadar could see it.

Kira watched them with interest. Though there was no hint of romantic attraction in their body language, the two seemed to have great respect for each other, and a camaraderie she'd never seen between their species before.

"I don't understand," Rinak'vaka said. "It appears to be a changeling."

"It is a changeling," Kalaran confirmed.

The Jem'hadar's head swiveled toward Kira. "But it doesn't seem possible."

"Captain Kira called it a miracle. But how do we know this isn't how changelings reproduced in prehistoric times? Perhaps the shapeshifting ability existed in only part of their population and they were dependent on the solids of their species to carry their offspring. Maybe the solids were bred out of existence or died from some plague or natural disaster that the changelings could survive…or they were killed off in a civil war."

"Doctor Bashir might be interested in trading theories with you," Kira mentioned.

They were interrupted by a comm. _"Ro to Kira._"

"What?" Kira responded.

"_Could you come to the security office?"_

"Is something wrong?"

"_Yes. I would say definitely yes."_

"I'll be right there."

Odo put a hand on her arm. "Kira, I want to go with you. I might be able to help."

Kira wasn't sure if Ro would appreciate that, but then remembered she was the captain. She nodded in aggreement. As they walked to the security office, she filled him in on the nairait crisis.

* * *

Ro went directly to Quark's after getting off work that night. She sat down heavily at the bar. Quark scurried over to her as soon as he finished pouring Morn's drink.

"Hard day?" he asked sympathetically.

She scowled. "Let me put it this way: do you have anything that will literally set my teeth on fire?"

"One Binary Supernova coming up." He began mixing obscure ingredients in a short, fat glass. "Do you want to tell me all about it?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather die."

Quark slid the libation to her and winced as she took a large gulp. "I understand completely," he lied. "I've had days that I just wanted to go home and forget the whole thing ever happened."

Instead of answering, she took a second swallow.

"But things always look better in the morning, right?" he said, trying to lift her spirits.

She scowled even harder as she put down her glass and glared at him. "I've never believed that stupid human platitude. And the news I got today...it will just be even worse tomorrow."

Quark was trying to think of some way to elicit exactly what news she was referring to, but then he froze with a frightened look in his eyes. Ro lifted her glass and watched a dark, distorted reflection approach from behind her.

"Lieutenant Ro."

She groaned, then turned around. "What can I do for you, Nshevalth?"

"I thought you might want to know that Burnau was just admitted to the infirmary with psionic trauma."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Ro actually sounded genuinely concerned. "I suppose Doctor Bashir has him under a neural dampener?"

"Don't you even want to know what's causing it?" Nshevalth huffed. "Or, rather, _who_ is causing it?"

"I already do. But there's not much we can do about it."

The Tzenkethi scoffed incredulously. "How can you say that? Do you realize that my husband's _life_ is in danger?"

"All our lives are in danger," Ro spat back. Some of the nearby patrons turned their heads sharply in her direction. She ignored them, but continued more softly, "We need their help. Bashir can keep Bez under for a few days."

"A few days?" Nshevalth whispered. "Is that how much longer they'll be here, or how much time we have left?"

At that moment, Ro noticed the BYSEV crowd enter. The five of them took over a booth near the bar, where one of the waiters hurried over to them. Quark, Ro, and Nshevalth looked at the waiter as he came back to get their drinks.

"What did they order?" Quark inquired.

"One synthale, one springwine, one Earth wine, one water, and one bloodwine."

"Who ordered the water?"

"The pretty one."

Quark nodded, remembering the tall, black-haired beauty had mentioned she didn't drink.

"It's her, isn't it?" Nshevalth questioned Ro.

Ro wasn't entirely sure she wanted to tell Nshevalth, but she didn't think a flat-out lie would sound convincing. "Mrs. Bez, she's not responsible for your husband's condition."

"Just remember, there's no profit in revenge," Quark supplied helpfully.

Nshevalth turned her head to him, but said nothing.

"Are you...Are you staring at my lobes?" he asked in confusion.

"I think they'd look very good spliced," she said in a tight monotone.

Ro quickly interrupted. "I understand your concern for your husband. I share it," she assured her, "but there's nothing we can do for him. Nothing."

Nshevalth took a deep breath. "You're right. Of course. Don't worry, it's not like I'm going to kill her or anything." She stood up and left quickly, not glancing in the newcomers' direction.

"You know," Quark said as he watched her leave, "as enemies go, I preferred Odo. At least with him I could be pretty sure he wouldn't carry out most of his implied threats."

"If you want me to reassure you, you're out of luck. It's hard to figure that one out, but I can tell you that she can be dangerous if she wants to be." She finished off her drink. "But I don't think she's stupid. I'm counting on that."

Quark risked taking her hand. "She'd have to be very stupid to try anything on your watch."

"Thank you, Quark." She rewarded him with one of her rare, restrained smiles. "You don't know how much that would mean to me if I didn't know you were a shameless flatterer with no idea of the true magnitude of the situation. It would mean a lot more to me if you got me another drink."

He smiled the apologetic smile of a gambler who just lost a long-shot, and filled up her cup. "On the house."

A minute or so later, another attention-grabbing group entered: Kira and Odo, accompanied by a female Vorta and a Jem'hadar. Kira spotted the BYSEV aliens and moved in to make introductions.

Ro sipped at the remains of her Binary Supernova. She and Quark were both interested in listening to the exchange between the Beta Quadrant and the Gamma Quadrant aliens.

"Odo, these are the people I was telling you about."

As Kira and her entourage approached, the white-haired, somewhat feline humanoid stood to offer a formal greeting. "Odo! I've heard much about you. I'm Doctor Vo'xa. This is my crew, Ia Zh, Uyiy, Tairis, and Gicu,."

"I'm honored to meet you. Kira tells me you're providing invaluable assistance against the nairait. These are my associates, Kalaran and First Rinak'vaka."

Kalaran was staring at Tairis. She opened her mouth, as though on the verge of asking something, but unsure if she should. When she realized people had noticed, she went ahead and asked. "You wouldn't happen to be Tairis of Thovi, would you?"

With a look of complete shock, Tairis stood up slowly. "How did you know that? How do you know the name of my home planet?"

"Each new generation of my species is cloned from the last, and we carry the memories of our predecessors. Two generations ago, I met a group of aliens traveling in multi-generational starships. They were looking for a planet to settle. I helped them travel through Dominion space safely."

"Were they led by General Asanasara?" Tairis pressed.

"No. Asanasara had died several years earlier. They were lead by the general's son, Anolanrac. They had four ships: the oldest one was named the _Chlo_, the newer three were the _Thovi,_ the _Asanasara_, and the _Tairis._"

A dazed smile crept across Tairis's lips. "They survived." She met Kalaran's gaze. "Do you know where they are now?"

"No. I didn't keep track of them after they left Dominion territory."

"Thank you," she breathed. With tears beginning to wet her eyes, she sidestepped the Vorta and left the bar.

"That was interesting," Ro whispered.

Quark nodded. "I wish I could hear the rest of that story."

Kira, Odo, Kalaran, and Rinak'vaka took seats near Vo'xa's group. After ordering drinks and talking for a few minutes, they all decided to go to Vic's holosuite.

Ro jutted her chin in the direction of the departing group. "Can you imagine the looks they would get if they walked in a real ancient Earth casino?"

"No, but that worm looks like something that would be on the menu in a Ferengi restaurant. Is it a male or a female?"

"Uyiy?" Ro shrugged. "I haven't heard. Probably a hermaphrodite."

"A giant hermaphrodite worm. Can't be much of a hit with the ladies." He waited for Ro to make some snide comment, but she seemed distracted. "Seriously, Laren," he said sincerely, "If you need anything, I'm here to help."

She shook her head. "I don't think there's much you can do. There's not much anyone can do right now. It's times like this that I wish I had Kira's faith. She can hear the bad news, do everything she can, then go and have fun and tell herself the Prophets will take care of the rest"

"What's the bad news you keep talking about?"

"Word from Starfleet Security came in this afternoon: after Admiral Ross found out about the Beta Quadrant crowd here, he set some kind of plan in motion. It turns out, he's infected. Officers of Starfleet Security, Medical, and several starships have disappeared, along with five warships. The fleet that was supposed to be guarding this sector was sabotaged from the inside. The nairait know we can stop them now, and they're going to try to destroy us before we have the chance. They'll hit us with all they've got, and they'll do it soon."


	18. Redemption

Disclaimer: Once again, I make no claims that could possibly give anyone any possible hope of successfully suing me.

Chapter 18

Kira looked around the crowded wardroom, which had been unpleasantly silent for the past several seconds. She had been able to relax and enjoy her time at Vic's the previous night by forcing worries about the escalating nairait crisis out of her mind, but that morning brought a backlog of disturbing reports. And then, minutes before, a fleet of forty-three nairait-controlled ships had decloaked just inside the Bajoran system. Immediately after decloaking, they had arranged themselves in a tight formation and linked their shields into a mutually-reinforcing net, which Tairis identified as the Okotro Maneuver, a Sorono battle formation intended to surround, cage in, and completely annihilate a group of enemy vessels.

"My ships are just on the other side of the Wormhole," Odo pointed out. "They significantly outnumber the nairoid ships. I can have them here within minutes." He sat across the conference table from Kira, between Ezri Dax and Tairis.

"And the second they stop defending the Wormhole, Laas's ships will destroy it. That's not an option," Kira declared.

"And destroying the ships isn't going to necessarily destroy the nairait," Vo'xa added. She was seated to Kira's left. "We need to find a way to infect their ships with the cure, preferably without destroying them."

Bashir leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. "Vo'xa, could the cure be administered through inhalation?"

"Yes, but it wouldn't take effect for several minutes."

"We could beam the substance onto their ships," Ro suggested. "We would only have to drop shields for a second."

"We couldn't beam it to all of their ships simultaneously," Kira negated. "Either we would have to drop shields for longer, or for a second for each ship, which would give them time to catch on to what we were doing." She bit her lip and shook her head.

Vaughn, who had been quietly since the rushed meeting began, spoke up. "It might not be that hard. With the nairait ships linking their shields together to create the forcefield net...that presents us with an opportunity: if we can weaken the forcefield enough in one place to beam someone through, they could administer the drug to that ships crew, then program their own transporters to beam aerosol vaccine vials to every other ship within the net."

Ro nodded in approval. "And each ship that receives the cure would join us against the others."

"But whoever we send over to program the transporters would be vulnerable until the vaccine takes effect," Kira realized. "And we wouldn't be able to beam him back." She stared intently at Vaughn.

He stared right back. "Yes, it's a suicide mission. One I'm willing to undertake."

"That's not acceptable."

"Kira," Sisko joined the discussion. His voice was soft and measured, and commanded attention. "This may be the only viable plan. You of all people should know that sometimes it's necessary to make sacrifices in war."

She hesitated, but only for an instant. "Only as a last resort. And we aren't there yet." She locked eyes with Sisko, making it clear to him and to herself that _she_ was the captain now. "We'll keep looking for other options. In the meantime, I want everything we have right down to the smallest runabout armed to the teeth and ready to deploy at a moment's notice. We'll begin evacuating non-essential personnel. Contact Bajor; ask them to send us whatever they can spare. Vo'xa, I want you and your team to work with Bashir on a way to safely deploy the antidote. Captain," she addressed Benjamin Sisko, "would you mind taking command of the _Defiant?_"

"Of course not."

"Good. Dismissed."

* * *

Kira went directly to Ops to prepare for the attack. After staying with her for several minutes, Odo had finally accepted that he was useless in this situation. He took Kalaran and Rinak'vaka to an empty cargo hold for a private meeting. 

"I'm going to call a ship come to take the two of you and the rest of _Shkalek_'s crew back to the Gamma Quadrant."

"What about you?" Rinak'vaka asked.

Odo shifted self-consciously, but his words were decisive. "I'll stay here."

"But if you die, the reformation will fail." the Jem'hadar objected.

"I believe the two of you could lead our people without me."

"I disagree."

"It's Kira," said Kalaran. "He won't leave her. He would die with her, if need be."

"Why can't we bring her with us? Surely her presence or absence on the station will not determine victory," Rinak'vaka argued.

"She would never leave," Odo stated. "It's her obligation and responsibility. Until she issues the order to evacuate and makes sure no one is left on the entire station, she'll be here to fight for it."

Kalaran stood taller and looked him in the eyes. "Then we're staying with you."

"Our cause won't survive without you, and we choose to live or die with our cause," added Rinak'vaka.

Odo sighed. "Would it help if I ordered you to go?"

"No."

"Not at all."

Odo reluctantly acquiesced. He knew he should have gone back to the Gamma Quadrant; he served no purpose on Deep Space Nine. He wished he had the privilege to die by the side of the woman he loved without risking the fate and freedom of billions of Dominion citizens. But he couldn't leave. He knew that he couldn't force himself to leave if the entire universe were at stake.

A distant rumble signaled the first shots of the battle being fired.

* * *

In the science lab, Bashir, the BYSEV team, and several science officers ran various simulations, did experiments on nairait samples, and mostly just brainstormed on how to rig weapons that would deliver the nairait antidote. They had a kind of collective nervousness, causing them to work hastily while trying to look relaxed. No one was fooling anyone. 

Bashir looked over Vo'xa's shoulder. "Come up with anything?"

"Dead end. I thought we might design a nanoprobe delivery system that could infiltrate their shields, but I don't think we could create any small enough to slip through their quantum variation multiphases. I toyed with the idea of having them emit a counter-frequency to cancel out the shield resonance, but those probes would be too large to penetrate a ship's hull."

"Run this by Lieutenant T'Lin; she's skilled at nanotechnology."

"Okay." Vo'xa hesitated for an instant. "I think your first officer was on to something. Not that I approve of suicide missions, but there are definitely ways to minimize the risks to that plan. Does everyone in Starfleet just obey your captains' orders without question?"

"There are always questions, but in Starfleet the captain does have the authority to make the final decision by herself."

"And you would have to follow her orders whether you agree with them or not?"

"Yes. Unless you want to risk a court marshal. How does it work in the BYSEV?"

"If someone disagrees with an order, they don't have to perform it. The captain then has to find someone who will. If no one will, the captain is overridden."

"But what if the person the captain asks is the most qualified to perform the task?"

Vo'xa looked at him with her amused, unblinking blue stare. "Shouldn't the person most qualified to do something be the one to decide whether or not it should be done?"

Bashir considered that point, then smiled. "Actually, the only person on a Federation ship with the authority to override the captain is the doctor...though only in medical matters."

"And, of course, a doctor can interpret almost anything as a medical matter," Vo'xa said with a smile that revealed catlike teeth.

"True."

Seizing an unguarded moment, Tairis slipped away from the research group. Only Ia Zh noticed. Whether he guessed her intention or not, he chose to remain silent.

The door she exited through led into the infirmary, which was empty but for a tired-looking medical officer, two of the warrior species known as the Jem'hadar, a small humanoid male who lay unconscious on the biobed nearest the door, and a tall, black-skinned female who sat next to him. This one looked up when Tairis approached. Her purple, pupilless eyes seemed to latch on to her with a hostility Tairis didn't understand, but would recognize in any species. She hurried past, pretending to ignore the alien.

* * *

"The phasers are having no effect weakening their shield network!" 

Kira cursed, scowled, and hit a console in quick succession. "Concentrate fire on multiple points around a single ship...the _Fortitude_," she picked the first Federation ship stolen by the nairait at random.

"Captain, we've lost contact with the _Congo_...It's been destroyed, sir."

"They just broke through our left flank!"

A particularly violent multiple strike shook the station. The delicate circuits of the tactical console crossed, creating an explosion of electrical currents that rendered Ensign Luth unconscious. Kira took control of the console, relieved at being able to participate directly in the defense effort. "All ships regroup at right flank. Hit them hard. Engineering, divert all available power to the shields!"

"_All we have left is life support,"_ Nog said over the comm.

"Then divert life support. It won't do us much good if the shields fail."

"_Understood sir."_

Kira knew that even with the extra power the shields wouldn't hold for long. They were already sputtering like a candle in the rain.

"Provide cover fire for the _Defiant_ and the _Chattahoochee."_ With one hand flying over the console, the other pressed against her belly, Kira offered a quick prayer for her daughter and for Odo.

* * *

Elias Vaughn didn't think Kira would bother ascertaining his whereabouts in the midst of a battle, but he'd programmed the computer to give a false location just in case she or anyone else asked. He hurried down a deserted corridor, listening to the shaking of the station from repeated attacks. He carried a phaser and a bag containing exactly forty-three vials of concentrated nairait vaccine he'd replicated from one he stole from the infirmary. He stopped in front of the sealed door of Transporter Room Two. It took nearly five seconds to bypass the locking mechanism. 

When the door slid open he found, to his shock, the room wasn't as empty as it was supposed to be. The Beta Quadrant security officer was at the controls.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

She spun around and pointed her strange, complicated-looking gun at him. He'd instinctively raised his phaser at the same instant. He also noticed a tray of forty-three vials identical to the ones he carries sitting by the transporter.

"I could ask you the same question; no one's scheduled to use this room."

"How did you know that?"

"I've cracked tougher security schematics in my sleep. Now, I strongly suggest you turn around and let me continue with what I'm doing."

"You're going to try to transport onto an enemy vessel," Vaughn noted. "Why?"

"To stop them."

"But you have no personal interest in defending the station."

"It's I and my crewmates that they're targeting; that's pretty personal. Besides..." Her large, haunted eyes drifted to the bag he carried, then settled on his face. "I'm not surprised you're attempting the same thing; I see it in you, too."

"See what in me?" he asked. He was calm, determined to carry out his self-appointed mission, and yet puzzled and disturbed by Tairis.

"That you think you have something to atone for. How many people are dead because of you?"

His lip trembled slightly as he answered. "Hundreds. But only one that I can never forgive myself for."

Tairis's expression didn't change; she didn't even blink as she said in a carefully controlled, clear voice. "Eight billion." One hand reached to activate the controls.

Vaughn pressed the trigger button of his phaser, but the beam missed Tairis by a meter, due to the fact that Vaughn was struck on the back of the head the instant he fired. He fell to the floor unconscious.

Tairis's eyes grew even wider and her lips parted in surprise when she saw her rescuer. "Who are you?"

"Shut up and get on the transporter pad," replied Nshevalth as she moved to the controls.

Tairis complied, grabbing her tray of vaccine. "We need to wait until there's a fluctuation in their shields."

"I know," Nshevalth informed her. "This isn't my first combat situation." She watched the telemetry data of the battle scroll across the console.

"Why are you helping me?"

She glanced up, then quickly back at the screen. "Because I want you dead."

Tairis considered the other woman, then nodded. "Fair enough."

There wasn't time to say more. Nshevalth spotted an opening in the enemies' shields and activated the transporter. As she watched the other woman vanish, she recalled a Tzenkethi nursery rhyme in which a warrior kills an enemy who turns out to be his sibling in disguise. She also thought of a line from the ancient Tzenkethi warrior/poet Dhilol, which she said aloud: "'The same stroke which kills my nemesis kills my hate.'"

She hoisted the fallen Commander Vaughn over her shoulder and left for the Infirmary. She had briefly contemplated trying to cover her trail, but realized if they wanted to find out who abetted the unauthorized transport, they would, and she would accept whatever repercussions that would bring.

* * *

"_Shields failing, Captain! I repeat, direct hit to shield generators; shields failing!"_

It was too coordinated. Their enemies were too organized, much more than they had anticipated.

"All ships use evasive maneuvers. Nog, get those shields back online! Everyone else, hang on," Kira shouted. She hit her communicator. "Julian, tell me you've got something."

"_Negative, Captain,_" he replied. _"In another quarter hour, we might have something."_

"We don't have that kind of time!"

_"Then I suggest you think of something else."_

"No kidding," she whispered harshly. "How long until our reinforcements from Bajor get here?"

"At least two hours," Tenmei answered her.

"Wait a minute..." Leri Ghendar, the communications officer on duty, looked up in complete shock. "The _Fortitude _has broken off its attack. It's...firing on the nearest warbird, targeting weapons."

She looked to her console. Sure enough, one by one the attacking ships were turning against their own. Without shields to protect them, the weapons systems were failing quickly.

She tapped her communicator. "Kira to Bashir?"

"_What?"_

"Did you do something?"

"_No. Why?"_

"They're breaking off their attack."

"_That's impossible..."_

_"I believe I may know the answer to this," _said the placid voice of Ia Zh. "_I believe someone has carried out the sacrifice you dismissed earlier."_

In the chaos of the attack, Kira had forgotten about that possibility. "Who?"

"_I don't know for sure, but Tairis is missing."_

"We're being hailed by the _Fortitude,_" said Leri.

"Onscreen," Kira ordered thoughtlessly, too tired and relieved to really care what the _Fortitude_ might have to say.

_"This is Captain Etna'i of the _U.S.S. Fortitude," said the distressed-looking humanoid male. "_I...I'm sorry about...I feel like I should apologize..."_

"You were acting under alien influence," Kira said dismissively. "Right now, frankly, I care more about cleaning up this mess than apologies."

The captain nodded, unable to meet Kira's eyes. _"I understand, but...the officer you sent over didn't make it. She was...fatally wounded after releasing the substance that destroyed the alien virus into our environmental systems."_

Kira felt a guilty rush of relief that it hadn't been Vaughn, as she suspected. "Drop shields; I'll send a team to help clear out whatever remains of the nairait...and bring back to the station whatever remains of our officer."

_"Very well."_ The captain still acted indulgently remorseful. "Fortitude _out."_

Kira frowned, even though sensors confirmed the flotilla of ships had dropped shields and powered down weapons. Several were attempting to hail them, but she didn't feel like dealing with them. "Leri, send a universal message to every ship explaining what happened and requesting they remain for decontamination."

"Understood."

"Kira to Bashir."

_"Kira, what exactly is happening up there?"_

"Is Doctor Vo'xa still with you?"

_"I'm here,"_ answered the voice of the elderly Beid from the background of the comm channel.

Kira took a breath, as much to brace Vo'xa to hear bad news as to prepare herself to deliver it. "The nairait has been stopped, but I'm afraid your crew member...didn't make it back."

The other end of the comm was silent for a long moment. Vo'xa's voice, when she finally replied, was low and strained. "I understand."

Kira had the transient impression that Vo'xa was not speaking to her, but to her fallen friend.


	19. Resolutions

Thank you, everyone who's been following this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I'm not good at endings. I would appreciate it if everyone who reviews this story makes a suggestion on how it could have been better.

Disclaimer: Alas! In spite of months of effort I _still_ do not own _Star Trek Deep Space Nine._

Chapter 19

The funeral had been arranged according to the traditions of Starfleet, even though Tairis wasn't a member. She'd never given specific instructions on how to treat her remains, and no one knew what the custom was for her people, so she would be launched into the cosmos, to be eternally an explorer. Vo'xa, Gicu, Ia Zh, and Uyiy clumped in a group nearest Tairis's coffin. While the three younger crew members spoke quietly of Tairis's courage, dedication, and service, Vo'xa remained silent, thinking of the a dozen friends' funerals she and Tairis had endured together. She was finally beginning to feel her age, and couldn't help but wonder if she would have to preside over the funerals of any other of her colleagues before her time came. She looked at her remaining crew: Ia Zh, the Yniln whose tranquility disguised his youth, the son of one of Vo'xa and Tairis's colleagues from the earliest days of the BYSEV. The philosophical d'Yniln barely cared about what happened to their remains after death. Burial, cremation, or disposal was all perfectly acceptable. Gicu, being Dassa, would want his body buried with a sapling to represent the continuity of life cycles. Uyiy, a Qwa, instructed for its remains to be fed to scavengers or predators, to represent the same thing. For the Beid, whose scientific curiosity was by far the most pronounced racial trait, bodies were devoted to study. If she died while on the journey, Vo'xa's corpse would be cryogenically frozen and returned to her homeworld, where her genetic code would be unraveled, scrutinized, and stored along with the most comprehensive biography Beid researchers could compile in one of Beidic's vast underground libraries. Because of their small population and precariously slow reproductive rate, the life of every Beid was documented from birth to death.

She wished that she knew more about Tairis. She'd always assumed that she would tell her about her past when she was ready, but now all Vo'xa knew of her history were the vague hints that had slipped out over the years, what Kalaran had said about the Thovi, and Tairis's mysterious genetic code, which indicated she was a hybrid offspring of at least three different species.

Captain Kira approached her. "Everything's ready," she said softly. "You may deliver the eulogy whenever you want."

Vo'xa nodded and stepped to the podium next to the coffin. She looked around. Besides her own crew and several members of Deep Space Nine's staff, the bridge crew of the _Fortitude _had insisted on attending. Vo'xa wasn't sure if it was appropriate or not, but Ia Zh had told her it was necessary for the captain to forgive himself. Burnau and Nshevalth Bez were also prominently in attendance, even though the telepathic security officer was still recovering from the psionic trauma he'd suffered from Tairis's tortured psyche. For reasons Vo'xa didn't know, they'd both insisted on viewing the body before the coffin was closed, but now they were huddled with the rest of the Deep Space Nine attendees at a respectful distance.

Though more than once her throat tightened to the point that she couldn't speak, Vo'xa managed to deliver a heartfelt eulogy. She spoke of Tairis's endearing qualities, how she consistently gave more than duty required of her. She shared a couple of stories of Tairis's distinguished career, and her quieter acts of heroism as a selfless friend.

When the eulogy was finished, Tairis's crewmates approached the coffin to bid their colleague a final goodbye. Ia Zh, who had wept silently during the eulogy, but who had managed to dry his tears, whispered the Cezhiaey Affirmation: "The flower has bloomed."

Remembering the Yniln word for "death," which literally meant "Return to Cu," Ia Zh entered a brief state of meditation, teaching himself to accept that Tairis's soul had returned, and that her body would soon return to the raw elements. When he completed the meditation, Ia Zh began to sing the customary Yniln funerary song of letting go, of acceptance, and of hope.

Uyiy, who had not been taught to believe in an afterlife, raised its voice in the traditional Qwa dirge, a far more ancient tune of sorrow and loss.

The two songs somehow blended into a haunting harmony: cold and warm, fresh and ancient, mysterious and obvious, personal and universal at once.

As the strange song continued, the coffin was launched into the darkness of space, given back to the stars.

After the funeral, Kira caught Odo's eye. He walked over to her.

"Kalaran's sources say Laas is almost ready to launch his attack," he whispered. "I'll be leaving in an hour. Are you sure you want to come with me?"

Kira nodded. "I've already told Commander Vaughn to take over for me. I just need to stop by my quarters and I'll be ready to go."

Odo took her hand briefly, then slipped away to prepare his ship for departure.

* * *

Vaughn looked for Vo'xa in her ship. He was hesitant about speaking with her, but he thought she should know Tairis sacrificed herself in his place. 

The BYSEV ship was unlike any other he'd seen: it was cramped, every inch of wall and even the ceiling was utilized for buttons, switches, and various other controls. The seats were reclined nearly to the point of being beds, and sunk in the floor. Each seat had a keypad that might have doubled as a kind of restraint. Uyiy was at one of these alcoves. It folded its antennae into complex shapes in order to manipulate multiple controls at once as a translucent holographic projection showing what Vaughn guessed was the ship's engine extended from the ceiling directly above.

"I'm looking for Vo'xa," Vaughn said.

"In her office. There." It gestured to one of the button-covered doors along the sides of the room.

Vaughn approached it slowly, scanning its surface for anything that might announce his presence to the room's occupant.

"Touch the yellow stripe," Uyiy advized.

He pressed the large illuminated yellow rectangle. A moment later, the door opened. He walked in to a room smaller but less crowded than the bridge. Vo'xa stood in front of a screen, conversing with a blue-green amoeboid.

"You seem to have a visitor, Vo'xa." The giant amoeba's voice issued not from its body, but from a small computer interface that seemed to be floating on its surface membrane.

"So it seems. I'll contact you as soon as I know the Federation's answer."

"Once again, let me express my condolences for Tairis; she was a valuable asset to the BYSEV, and a good friend."

Vo'xa nodded her acceptance, then touched a button that ended the communication. She turned to Vaughn.

"What was that?" he asked, indicating the screen.

"Huguaq Mai, the current head of BYSEV. He's Ecroshim."

"But what answer were you talking about?"

Vo'xa looked down. "I asked him for permission to explore the Federation part of the Alpha Quadrant after we make sure there are no more nairoids in Starfleet and prepare you for any future nairait attacks. The Beid have been in this part of space before, centuries ago, but clearly much has changed."

"And you decided to clear it with your superiors before asking the Federation for permission."

"There's an old Beid saying: 'If you need to amputate someone's toe and arm, do the toe first.'"

Vaughn looked confused.

"Because if you can't cut off the toe, you shouldn't even attempt the arm. Right?" she tried to explain. "I thought convincing Mai would be easier than convincing the Federation."

"Right," he said quickly. "But I'm sure the Federation council will grant you permission. We're as eager to learn about the BYSEV as you are to learn about us."

"I hope you're right."

He looked at the floor. "I came here to talk about Tairis," he admitted.

Vo'xa squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. "What about her?" she asked, her sorrow plain.

"I was about to perform the mission at the same time she was. She wouldn't let me. I think...I think in the end she found something she's been looking for a long time."

"I know."

He looked up curiously.

"I might not know about Tairis's past, but I know what kind of person she was, and I've known for a long time how much silent suffering she endured, even though I never knew why."

"She said she was responsible for billions of deaths."

Vo'xa didn't look shocked.

Vaughn nodded to her and began retreating toward the door. "If there's anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Commander."

After Vaughn left, Vo'xa stood for a long time lost in thought about Tairis.

* * *

Kira stood beside Odo on the bridge of the _Shkalek_. First Rinak'vaka, Weyoun, and members of Rinak'vaka's contingent stood behind them. Kalaran stood at the subspace communication console. 

"Is the transmission ready?" Odo asked.

"Yes," answered Kalaran.

Odo put on a headset screen. Kira did the same. "Open a channel to Laas."

The image of the hated Founder appeared on their screens. _"Kira Nerys,"_ he said in a poisonous voice, _"I'm surprised that you choose to end your short life in such a futile sacrifice as this."_

"I don't believe I'll be making that sacrifice today."

"We're giving you one last chance," Odo said, "stand down, and we'll negotiate."

_"Or I could destroy you and not have to._"

"We have discovered a way to save our species, Laas," Odo implored. "But we can only do it by cooperating with the solids."

_"We both know that's a lie."_

Odo looked at Kalaran. "It's time. Send the transmission."

With the touch of a button, data—including Laas's attempts to destroy Odo, Kalaran's plans for reengineering the Jem'hadar and Vorta, and Kira's medical condition—were sent to every ship on both sides of the battlefield at once, along with a program preventing the transmission from being blocked.

_"What are you doing?"_ Laas snarled as he frantically tried to stop the message. _"These are all lies! You manufactured the evidence."_

"Let's just wait and see if your troops believe you," Kira smirked.

Kalaran grabbed a headset and smiled wickedly at the enemy Founder. "Check your sensors, _Laas_; a fourth of your ships have already redirected their weapons at you. Others are sending us messages accepting our terms on your behalf."

Laas's anger burned out as he saw that she was right. His ships were flocking to his rival. "_I imagine you're expecting me to surrender to your terms now_," he said grudgingly.

"We're not asking for your surrender, only your cooperation," Odo insisted.

"Very well; I'll 'cooperate.' I'm ordering what ships will still obey my orders out of firing range."

Odo nodded congenially. "And if you don't mind, I would like to have some of my ships escort you back to Dominion space."

"Agreed," Laas grumbled.

The transmission ended, and Kira, Kalaran, and Odo removed their headsets and glanced at each other.

"Hm," Odo harrumphed.

Kira looked at him curiously. "What?"

"I didn't expect it to be that easy."

"Are you _complaining?_" She asked, amused.

He smiled at her. "Not at all. I just hope nothing goes wrong."

"As optimistic as usual, I see," Kira laughed.

"Don't worry; we'll keep our eyes on him," Kalaran assured them both.

Odo gave her a nod, then looked at Kira. "We'll return you to Deep Space Nine whenever you want."

"No hurry," she said. "Besides, you just averted a possibly catastrophic war; don't you think that calls for some kind of celebration?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked her.

She smiled a small, conspiratorial smile. "I'll be right back."

She disappeared into Odo's private room. He waited, vexed with curiosity, until she reemerged a few minutes later. She was dressed in a dull blue and green dress that Odo recognized as a Dahkur supplication robe. She was carrying a small black box.

"Kira," he asked, bemused, "what are you doing?"

She deliberately walked up to him, fell to her knees, and bowed her head in the attitude of a supplicant.

Kira had been planning this for months, but she still felt so awkward. The eloquent proposal she had painstakingly memorized seemed suddenly clumsy and wordy. She decided to attempt it anyway.

"Odo," she began, "I know how hard your life has been, and how much you've had to sacrifice, and the last thing I want is to make it even more complicated, which is why I want you to know you can refuse my request and I won't hold it against you in the least degree."

She stopped, her mind suddenly frustratingly blank. She didn't know how long it was until she said the first thing in her head, which was part of a later section of the speech. "For most of my life, I've had nothing to look forward to, nothing to hold on to during endless cycles of loss and defeat but the firm belief that I would die doing what was right. And then, for several years, I floundered to find some way to live without the constant struggle and opposition I was used to. You became a counterbalance to me. You helped me see myself the way you see me, which gave me strength in my most difficult times. I don't think I can express my gratitude for your friendship. You have always been so loyal, so undemanding. I honestly don't know what I ever did to deserve that from you. I only wish I could show you how amazing you are.

"I love you, Odo. We may be separated by a galaxy, but I wish us to be connected in the eyes of the Prophets, the Bajoran people, the Federation, and the Dominion, which is why I publicly request of you that you consider accepting this bracelet," she opened the box containing the two betrothal bracelets and held it out to him, "and my unworthy hand in marriage."

When she ended her monologue and took a deep breath, the enormity of what she'd just done hit her. She felt embarrassed and terrified. Her heart was pounding harder than it did during life-or-death combat situations.

Odo stared at her in complete shock for half a minute, then her dropped down until his eyes were level with hers. She had just declared herself unworthy of him, he reflected. Ironic, considering how many years he'd held her on a pedastal that he didn't dare reach for. Now he was symbolically equal to her, and he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He wouldn't have traded it for anything in the universe.

He took one of the bracelets and attached it around her wrist. "I accept. With all my existence, I accept."

She smiled, relieved, and put the other bracelet on him. They knelt, smiling at each other, for a minute before Kira looked around at Odo's confused crew. "Maybe we should go somewhere quieter to discuss this," she suggested shyly.

Odo nodded. He helped her to her feet and steered her toward his quarters.

They sat on the floor by the window. Kira's face, lit only by the starlight, looked too beautiful to be real. Odo tenderly fingered the betrothal bracelet she wore, then reached up and touched her earring. Kira took his other hand, massaging his palm with her fingertips. Her other hand cupped his cheek. Odo's fingers slid from her ear across her cheek to lightly brushed her lips, then smoothed her eyebrow. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Her name will be Kira Cerunvic," Kira said abruptly. "If you like it, of course."

"Kira Cerunvic," he repeated. "'Golden light.' It's the most beautiful name I've ever heard."

Kira smiled. She looked down for a moment, then looked up and locked eyes with him. "I don't want to do anything that will make things more difficult for you."

"When we're married," he assured her, "I think I'll be able to handle anything the Gamma Quadrant throws at me as long as I know you'll be there when I go back. I wish we could be together, but I'm not sure that will ever be possible. I want our daughter to be raised in the Federation, where no one will worship her as a god, where she'll be judged by who she is, not what she is. That's the least we can give her."

Kira nodded. There were so many other things they needed to talk about, but at that moment all she wanted to do was touch him.

In the distance, the Wormhole opened, like a new star blossoming in the heavens to welcome their child to the galaxy. Odo and Kira turned to watch it.

* * *

The soon-to-be-married couple entered Vic's lounge. 

_"Let me call you sweetheart, I'm in love with you/Let me here you tell me that you love me too."_

Odo rested his hand on Kira's shoulder. She took it with one hand, while the other kept a firm grip on a strange container.

When Vic finished his song, he came down to greet them. "You two are a sight for sore eyes. I don't know whether to be glad to see you or mad that you didn't drop by sooner." His holographic eyes fell on what Kira was carrying: it looked like a glass basket with a glowing, swirling gold fluid inside.

Kira smiled proudly. "Vic, meet our little CerunVic."

"She definitely takes after her father," he commented, managing to keep a straight face. "You named her after me?"

"Actually," Kira looked embarrassed to admit, "I didn't think about that when I chose the name, but we decided it's appropriate, since she wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"We have a favor to ask you," Odo interrupted.

He smiled. "Anything for you, pallie."

"We...want you to be her godfather," said Kira.

Vic nearly jumped. "Me? You sure you want a hologram for a godfather? I'm sure Benjamin and Kasidy or Miles and Keiko would love for you to choose them."

"We considered them," Odo explained.

"But we wanted someone who..." Kira searched for a way to put it succinctly.

"Doesn't have regular death threats," Odo suggested.

"Right. And that's not the Siskos or the O'Briens, and it's _definitely_ not us..."

"If you want the job, you're our first choice," concluded Odo.

Kira added, "It's not unprecedented; I've heard there's a Starfleet couple who chose an Emergency Medical Hologram as their baby's godfather."

Vic couldn't help but smile. "Relax; I'll take the job. I just never expected anything like this. I'm honored."

"Would you like to hold her?" Kira asked.

Vic took the infant changeling from her mother. He wagged his finger at it and cooed. A tendril of the glowing golden goo reached out and latched on to his finger.

"I think she likes you," said Odo.

Though he continued to smile, the hologram couldn't keep his voice entirely clear of sadness when he next spoke. "I hear you're leaving again soon."

Odo and Kira glanced at each other with sobered, sad eyes. "That's right," Odo confirmed. "After the wedding, we'll spend some time together on what humans refer to as a 'honeymoon' on Earth, and then I'll return to the Dominion."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Vic commiserated.

Odo nodded his gratitude for the sentiment, but answered, "They need me there."

"And I'm needed here," said Kira. Vic had returned CerunVic to her, and she set the custom-made baby basket down on a table, keeping one hand on the handle.

"Just remember to stop by whenever you're in my corner of the galaxy, okay?" Vic urged with genuine fondness.

"Of course."

"Odo, look!"

Odo and Vic turned to Kira. The clear basket was empty; on the table next to it were two wine glasses, one of which was less detailed than the other, and slightly tilted to the side.

Odo put an arm around Kira's shoulders. They smiled, as proud as parents of a humanoid are when their baby takes its first uncertain steps.

"She's a fast learner," Kira bragged.

"I can see that." Vic chuckled. "Brace yourselves; she's going to be a handful."

Kira nodded in agreement. She swept the simulated goblet into the basket. "We should be going, but we'll see you soon," she assured the holographic lounge singer.

"Stay for just one more song," Vic requested.

They readily agreed.

Vic returned to the stage. "This next song goes out to two very good friends of mine who are about to take the plunge. Best of luck to you." He pointed to his band and launched into a number.

Odo and Kira smiled, laughed, and listened together as Vic sang 'You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby.'

THE END


End file.
